Never Letting Go
by ThexInvisiblexGirl
Summary: On a fine day in mid-April, the lives of two couples are about to change forever. Twilight/Titanic crossover. Edward/Bella, Jack/Rose. Please R&R!
1. Prologue

**A/N: I've been working on this story for nearly three months now, and it's finally ready to be shared. This is my first crossover ever, but one I've always wanted to try, so I hope you will enjoy it. Obviously, I don't own any of the characters. The _Twilight_ characters are Stephenie Meyer's eternal property; the characters from _Titanic_ belong to James Cameron. I'm also using a passage from Jane Austen's _Sense and Sensibility_. **

**Huge thank you for Mizra and subtlynice for helping me figuring out the premise for this story. Feedback and constructive criticism are always welcome – you know where the review button is. Happy reading!**

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**Never Letting Go**

**Prologue**

April 14, 2006

She could barely remember a day as perfect as this one since she had first arrived at Forks a little over a year ago. It hadn't rained for hours. In fact, the weather was relatively warm, uncharacteristically so, even for mid-April. Every now and then, the sun would penetrate through the thin layer of clouds. The leaves on the treetops rustled whenever they caught a sudden gust of wind. The meadow, the glorious meadow, was burning with purples and pinks and oranges, the first blossom of the spring.

She looked around her, hardly able to believe such beauty could exist. Then, laughing inwardly at being so oddly poetic, she lowered her gaze to share a smile with the person who kept her company. "This is perfect," she told him, half smiling, as though saying it aloud had embarrassed her. The blush that tainted her cheeks suggested this was exactly the case.

For a moment, he said nothing. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought he didn't hear her. Then he came to sit closer next to her and, without touching her, stared deeply into her eyes. His gaze was intense, almost too intense, but she couldn't bring herself to look away. "Marry me," he pleaded in a whisper.

"Change me," she backfired, not missing a beat.

He chuckled at her reaction. He seemed unable to stop himself. She wasn't offended by his response. On the contrary; it egged her on. She had time; she was persistent. The problem was that so was he. "I will if you marry me."

"You're just saying that now," she said, sulking, but reached out to tousle his hair to let him know she wasn't really mad at him. Never that. "As soon as you come up with some new, brilliant idea, you'll change your mind."

"Do you honestly believe I can do that? Give you false hopes?"

"Prove me wrong, then," she smiled angelically. "Change me."

"You don't know what you're saying," he protested.

"We've been through this before. I've made my choice."

"You're just saying that now," he said with a hint of a smile. She couldn't help but smile as well as her own words echoed back at her. When their eyes met again, his were decisive and serious. "I wouldn't have chosen that, none of us would."

"Well, maybe if you gave me something worth staying human for…"

She let her voice trail, thick with implications. It only made him laugh. "You're a dangerous, devious human. What am I doing with you again?"

"I thought you said you loved me," she said, mock-frowning.

"More than life itself, I do," he whispered, leaning over to kiss her.

As always, she cherished the sensation of his lips brushing against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself as close to him as possible, never recoiling from the chill sipping through his shirt. Despite his generally guarded composure, she could feel his arms slowly wrapping around her waist, his yearning for her a perfect reflection of her own. He had always claimed how dangerous he was to her, but she had always dismissed his concern. The safest she had ever felt was in his arms, just like she was now.

Holding on to his neck, she leaned further back until she was laying on the soft grass. He came on top of her, leaning on his elbow with one arm still wrapped around her. There was a different edge to his kisses, not chaste and lazy. There was this new urgency to them, one she wasn't familiar with. She couldn't help but wonder if there was still a chance for her to win the argument. Soon she was becoming lightheaded, but she held on to him, clinging to his tee shirt with her fists. "I'm never letting go of you," she breathed as he trailed kisses to her neck.

"Marry me, and you will never have to," he murmured, smiling victoriously and a little smugly at her. She responded by pulling at his shirt, and his lips came crushing against hers once more. She might not be winning after all, but at least she knew a way to keep him quiet… for a while.

xoxox

April 14, 1912

"Not too long now."

His soft murmur pulled her out of her reverie. She didn't even realize she had been daydreaming until she heard him speak. She blinked, and the room swam into focus. Gradually she became aware of the soreness in her left arm, which was still raised over her head. There was slight discomfort coming from her other arm, the one close to her face. It was not an unpleasant feeling.

She took a shallow breath, careful to stay still as he had instructed two hours or so earlier, and stole a glance at him. He was leaning over his work, barely paying any attention to her as he was adding the finishing touches to his drawing, her portrait. She observed the slight furrow of his brow, the concentration reflected in his greenish-blue eyes, the confidence with which he held his pencil. His posture radiated with professionalism. Her body alighted with fire at the sight.

A memory flickered, their kiss on the bow as twilight softly wrapped around them. She smiled inwardly. The fire made its way to her cheeks; she hoped he wouldn't notice how flushed she had suddenly become. If he did, no doubt he would use it to tease her, just as mercilessly she had teased him earlier. More than anything she wanted to abandon the stiff posture she had been confined to, symbolizing in too many ways the first seventeen years of her life. She yearned to launch herself at him and resume the kiss she had unwillingly broke off all these hours ago.

Inside, she was laughing at her unladylike scheme. She had never felt that way, as though freedom was laying at the palm of her hand, hers for the taking. For a moment, the sensation overwhelmed her. She had never had the liberty to do anything, not even during her childhood. Nothing essential had changed around her; she just realized this freedom had always been there around the corner. All she had to do was conquer it. It was neither daunting nor intimidating, though. She was more than able to do this, she was certain. Besides, Jack would be there to guide her through.

She blinked and found him watching her curiously, inquiringly. She shook her head ever so slightly, dismissing the concern she found in his eyes. She was fine. Never in her life had she felt better. Nodding, he leaned over his work again and she allowed herself a moment longer of silent reflections. The fire was on and the room felt warm and cozy. It would be so easy to just drift off to sleep, right there and then on the sofa. She had to remind herself she mustn't close her eyes.

"There," he whispered some time later, and offered a small smile as he slowly lowered the drawing pad onto his lap. "We're done."

The relief in his voice didn't go amiss by her. Slowly, she lowered her raised arm. She winced; it was stiffer than she thought. There was dull ache in her legs as well. She stretched, flexing her toes several times to alleviate some of the numbness in her limbs.

"You can, umm, get dressed," he mumbled, flushing bright pink. Then, as though he didn't want her to notice it, he quickly left his seat. He crossed the room and retrieved her robe from where she had discarded it earlier. He looked straight into her eyes as he handed it to her, although she had half expected him to avert his gaze. He didn't try to put the robe around her, as though he didn't want to make her feel… cheap? She didn't know, but she appreciated this small gesture nevertheless.

By the time she had slipped into the soft garment and stood up, regaining her balance, he was back in his seat, blowing over the drawing. She leaned over his shoulder to observe it. His work was exquisite, like the other drawings he had shown her the previous morning on deck. Seeing her image on paper was strangely unnerving, a sensation she had not expected. It was like looking into a mirror, in a way, but not quite. There was depth in the painted eyes, certain distress in the way the fingers flexed. The full lips were parted slightly, as though with a hesitant plea. Observing the portrait, she was filled with awe. Up until that moment, she had always believed no one knew who she truly was; not even her own mother. But _he_ knew, and he had captured it to perfection, down to her very soul.

Looking away from the portrait was difficult, but she had done so eventually. He was watching her almost anxiously, as though he feared she wouldn't like it. She smiled at him; it seemed to have calmed him instantly.

"Thank you," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him as she tried to take the drawing pad from him. He didn't let it go, though. His lips moved softly yet persistently against hers as though to distract her; his grip on the drawing didn't waver. She giggled into the kiss, which eventually forced them to break away. "Why, Mr. Dawson," she said breathlessly, her head still reeling. "If you want this drawing so badly, why don't you make yourself a copy?"

"I would have, but one sitting was more than exhausting, thank you very much," he replied tersely, but with a spark of amusement in his bright eyes.

"I would presume you would enjoy my company," she said, pursing her lips in the first class sneer she had come to muster in seventeen years of age.

"Oh, I do. More than you know. But how shall I put it? I think it would be more... prudent of us to go back to the company of other people." He flushed ever so slightly. She reveled at his reaction. It was so refreshing, so honest; so different to the reserved and ever-calculating Cal.

"Perhaps we can go dancing again," she offered, blushing at the memory of his hand against her waist. All her life she had been taught to regard such proximity between a man and a woman as highly improper. After having experienced it, however, she could barely understand why it had been thought so scandalous. When he held her like that, all she really wanted was to be even closer to him.

"Sure, if you'd like."

"I'd like that very much," she whispered, looking straight at him. By that point he was standing up, facing her. The air was charged with intensity that was increasing still. There was only small distance between them, and she was suddenly aware of the fact she was practically nude. She was surprised to discover that this fact neither bothered nor embarrassed her. On the contrary; it made her feel bold, courageous, in a way she had never done before. If she moved just a step closer, she could place her lips on his, and they would be on the bow again, flying, soaring towards the falling twilight.

"Go on," he said all of a sudden. He spoke softly; his warm breath against her neck made goose bumps flower on her skin. "Get dressed so we can make it to the party."

"Alright," she replied slowly, reluctantly, taking a step back. "But there is something I need to do first."

Gently, she reached for the drawing in his hands. He handed it to her without a struggle this time. She walked over to the desk and placed the drawing on top of it. She opened the top drawer, knowing this was where Cal had kept the stationary and some ink. She paused only to remove the dreadful necklace from around her neck and asked Jack to put it back at the safe. Then, with a devious smile curling on her lips, she composed a short note, one she had planned her fiancé to find.

xoxox

"It's getting late."

His statement pulled her out of deep reverie. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him, squinting. Had she fallen asleep? His fingers were threaded in her hair, softly making their way through it. Her head was on his lap, and she had only just noticed his light jacket wrapped around her like a blanket. "How long have I been asleep?" she croaked. He smiled as though the sound amused him.

"Only fifteen minutes or so."

"Oh." She was slightly disoriented, like after a really long nap. She flexed her toes, hoping to bring back some sensation to her feet, which seemed to go numb.

"We really must go, though. Your curfew..." He frowned ever so slightly at the reminder.

"Charlie probably won't be home by the time I get back. He's got a night shift."

"Even so. I wouldn't want to betray his trust. He would expect you to be home."

"I guess you're right," she conceded reluctantly, and slowly sat up. He reached out to smooth her hair, smiling fondly at her. She frowned. "Do I look terrible?"

"No," he whispered, closing the small distance between them, and placed his lips on hers. She smiled against his lips, gladly yielding. She loved those rare times in which he had allowed himself to be so valiant and carefree. He was much more fun than the constantly reticent Edward.

Pretty soon she found herself on the grass again, holding on to him for dear life. Her fingers curled around the hair at the back of his neck as their lips collided again and again. As though he had sensed she was getting breathless, he began to trail his kisses to the hollow beneath her ear. Still holding on to him, she sucked in a huge breath, filling her lungs with some much needed air.

"Why are you so reluctant?"

For a moment, she found his query ludicrous. Was he joking? Reluctant? Her? She would rather stay in his arms than be anywhere else on earth. But then her eyes met his and the true meaning of his question dawned on her. She untangled herself from his grip and sat up. "You know why."

"No, actually, I don't."

"Someone my age doesn't just get married at my eighteen. Besides..." She sighed, knowing it would sound ridiculous. "To everyone else, it seems we barely know each other. We've known each other for a little over a year; much less than that, given the recent events."

She hoped her mentioning of his long absence wouldn't upset him, but he didn't seem to linger on it. He said nothing for a long moment, and then, lowly, "To everyone else." She didn't like the way he looked at her; almost as though he was disappointed at her. She winced inwardly, guessing what was coming next. "And to you?"

"You know how I feel," she whispered.

For a moment, he said nothing in response. Then, silently, he reached for the book that lay on the grass next to them. It was her very battered copy of Jane Austen's _Sense and Sensibility_, the one she had kept besides her compilation of Austen's novels. Earlier he had teased her endlessly about reading it again. Now he opened it and leafed through it purposefully, as though he knew exactly what he'd been looking for. She couldn't do much but watch him curiously.

Finally he stopped and looked up at her. "For someone who knows this book practically from cover to cover, you should know better than care for what everyone else thinks about our relatively short acquaintance."

Before she could question his statement, he spoke again, but his words were not his, but Jane Austen's.

xoxox

She walked into her bedroom and shut the door. She surveyed her wardrobe quickly, purposefully, and after eliminating several options and leaving them on her bed, she chose a dress she could easily manage without Trudy's help. She glanced at the door before she eased out of the thin robe. It was silly to worry about modesty now; he had seen her, all of her, a short time ago. But now she was suddenly feeling shy, and even though she knew he would never barge into her private bedroom uninvited, she couldn't help being cautious.

The dress she chose was bright blue, light and airy, and had a pink satin ribbon that tied just below her chest. It would be easier to dance in, she thought with a smile. She wore no makeup, no jewelries. It was not the first time she had seen no need in those, but it was the first time she didn't feel compelled to wear them in order to appease someone else, her mother in particular.

She was ready shortly afterwards, but she lingered a moment longer in front of the mirror, needing to reflect the enormity of the day. Her tumble of emotions only seemed to be growing stronger, flames that were consuming her from the inside out. She could feel them tingling just below the surface of her skin. Never in her life had she been so certain of her future. When the ship docked, she was going off with Jack. She would tell him tonight, and then, together, they would find a way to break the news to her mother. She would keep the option of fleeing as a very last resort, she thought. Deep down, she believed there was a way to make her mother see reason.

She smiled at her reflection again and knew she must hurry. She wasn't expecting Cal any time soon, but knowing him, he would soon begin to wonder as for her whereabouts. She didn't want to be anywhere he was likely to search at in case he had. Staring back at her was a girl whose cheeks were flushed, partly with excitement, partly with youth, and with something else entirely, that was swelling rapidly within her, something she'd known from books but had never experienced firsthand before. Something she was still scared to name lest she was entirely wrong.

As she emerged from the bedroom, Jack was sitting on a sofa by the fireplace. He didn't notice her, and she ceased the opportunity to observe him for a moment, undisturbed. He was reading something and the sight amused her. He looked exactly as she did while reading something she was interested in; entirely enchanted. It seemed nothing or no one could pry that book out of his hands.

She cleared her throat gently, hating to startle him. He turned instantly. His eyes flew over her dress, involuntarily it seemed. His cheeks flushed ever so slightly as though with remembrance of the portrait, now safely tucked in the safe. "You look nice," he said after a moment, and flashed a heart melting grin at her.

"Just nice?" She pouted as she came over to sit next to him on the sofa.

"Well, Miss, I must admit I liked your, erm, previous outfit better."

He seemed more embarrassed than anything else about his half tease, half confession. Thinking his flustered face deserved a change of topics, she reached for the book in his hands. She recognized the small book instantly. "This is mine," she said, not with an air of possessiveness, just surprise.

"It is, I hope you don't mind. I just found it here under the cushion."

Under the cushion? Damn it. She must have heard her mother or Cal approaching and hid it on the first place that came to mind, then forgot to retrieve it later. "Mother would kill me if she knew I was reading it," she smiled sheepishly, patting the cover distractedly. "Not to mention Cal. They find women authors far more treacherous than Freud."

"Yeah, it sounds just about right," he laughed. "I only just started, though. Is it any good?"

"I like it," she replied modestly. By no means was she an acclaimed book critic. She simply enjoyed reading. "It tells the story of two sisters who are utterly different from one another. In love, among other things," she said, blushing ever so slightly. She wasn't ashamed of taking a liking to this book, but the prospect of discussing it with another person – with a man, no less – embarrassed her. Most men she knew looked down on her for insisting to make her opinion heard, and there he was, asking her to make it. His deep stare egged her on. She cleared her throat.

"There is this one part," she said, slightly more confident now. "I just read it yesterday." While she was still puzzling over her conflicting emotions. At that moment, she felt as though the words were leaping off the page, meaning for her and her only. Well, them. "I thought it was... appropriate."

"To you and me?"

Before she knew it, he reached out and covered her hand with his. She gasped at the contact. Under other circumstances suchlike motion would have shocked her. Now she was mostly fascinated by what the simple touch had charged between them. It was as though her entire body was consumed by invisible flames. All she could do was nod in response to his question. She peeked at him through her lashes, and at the approval she has found in his eyes, she opened the book, leafed backwards from where her velvet bookmark rested, and found the passage which caught her attention.

xoxox

_It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy; it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others._

There was a shudder, and an explosion of some sort. They all eyed each other, perplexed, but neither of them could question the affect the spoken words had on them when a moment or so later, darkness took over.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"What the hell was that?" Her eyes flew around the unfamiliar room, all lavish carpets and fine upholstery. The room wasn't big, but it was strangely spacious. If she had to use one word to describe it, ancient would definitely be it. It looked as though it was ripped out of a book, or a museum. There were paintings everywhere; originals, by the looks of it. Even the lamps looked luxurious, and there was even a mini chandelier in the center of the room. Fire was cracking gaily in the fireplace. It was warm in the room, but she was still shivering. "Edward, what has just happened?"

He looked flustered; his dumbfounded expression made her stare at him in shock. She had never seen him so flabbergasted before. Nothing had ever taken him by surprise; he had always seemed so composed. Now he seemed as mystified as she was.

"I'm not... entirely sure," he replied slowly. He glanced around him, much like she had done only a short while ago. She could tell by the slight crease on his brow that he had no idea where they were or how they got there, but he was trying to place it. She watched him, too shaken to do anything else. Her fingers ran over the soft fabric of the sofa they were sitting on. Velvet, she thought, in rich burgundy. Old, like everything else in this strange room.

How did they get there?

And more importantly, where was "there"?

"We're on a ship," he said eventually, in what could have been a moment or two dozen afterwards. She shot him a dubious look, but he only nodded. "Yes. Listen carefully. Do you hear the humming of the engines?"

As he asked it, she suddenly became aware of the constant purring sound, blending into the background. She could feel no movement, though. And in this moment of distress, all her mind could focus on was hoping she would not be sea sick in front of him.

There was a flash of movement beside her, and when she next looked up, Edward was suddenly across the room, by what seemed like a doorway to a balcony. He spent a brief moment outside before he wandered back in and approached a desk on the other end of the room. He looked through the stack of papers he found there, his expression growing more astounded by the second. Her heartbeat hastened at the sight of him. "Edward, what? What is it?"

But she didn't think he even heard her. He was leafing through the papers – were they newspapers? – as though hypnotized. "Remarkable," he murmured to himself without looking up.

That's it. She could bare it no longer. She stood up, grateful for the steady floor beneath her feet, and crossed the room in four long strides. Standing next to him, she touched his shoulder. He flinched as though he hadn't even sensed her approach, which again was unusual. "Edward, talk to me. What is going on?"

Finally, he met her gaze. His expression was a mix of horror and fascination. "Bella," he said, his voice choked as though he was still coming to terms with whatever was going on. She thought his face seemed paler than they normally were, but she couldn't tell for certain in the yellowish light. "I think I know where we are."

Before she could question it, he handed her one of the papers. Not a newspaper, she now realized, but an unfinished letter dated April 12, 1912.

April 1912?

"The Titanic."

She didn't even realize she had said it aloud until she heard her voice. And as though her own recognition was the only thing her mind needed, she started. To her complete horror, he nodded his confirmation, and she noticed how his fascination was making its way to panic. "I have to get you out of here. This letter is dated the twelfth and since the ship is still afloat I suspect it doesn't have much left until..."

She just stared at him as his voice trailed off, uncertain how he could be so calculating when she still hadn't figured out how on earth they got there. "Don't you think there are more urgent issues to attend to?"

"Issues more urgent than a soon-to-be-sinking ship?"

"We don't even know how the hell we ended up here!"

His eyes scanned the room once more, as though he had expected the answer to reveal itself. Her eyes followed his and a moment later, the answer had indeed revealed itself to her when something had caught her eye. There was something on the carpeted floor. She crossed the room again and knelt by the sofa. Her fingers were shaking when she picked up the object that caught her attention.

"My book," she murmured, holding up Jane Austen's _Sense and Sensibility_ for him to see. Of course, it had to be that. She faintly remembered Edward reading to her from it a moment before the darkness hit. But how...

"It would have made sense…" She started; she didn't realize he had moved again, but he was suddenly there, kneeling on the floor next to her. "Except for one thing." Gently, he took the book from her shaky grip and observed it, first its front cover and then its back. Then he held it for her to see. "This is not your book."

She could see what he meant now, that she was looking at it more closely. It looked nothing like her tattered paperback. This one was the real deal, a very early edition wrapped in old leather, with a velvet bookmark peeking about a third into the book. She had seen books like that in Carlisle's extensive library.

"What do you think it means?" she asked, slowly tearing her eyes away from the book.

He looked at loss. "I don't know." Then confusion turned its place to panic again. "I don't know if we have time to figure it out."

She had seen him scared before, but not like this. And she was scared too, but for a whole different reason. "We need to find a way out of here, fast. We need to find a way to get back. If my dad gets home tomorrow morning and I'm not there because I'm stuck in another frigging _century_…" Her voice trailed; she let out a shaky breath. It was a scenario she didn't want to think about.

"Believe me, I am not willing to appear worse in your father's eyes than I already do," he said, chuckling darkly. "Perhaps if we go up on deck, we could try and find out more details about... our circumstances."

He took her hand and swiftly pulled her into a standing position. She looked down on herself, then at him. They were both dressed in jeans and modern-looking shirts. If they were right and they had somehow time-travelled into a different era, then they didn't look exactly inconspicuous.

She didn't even have to mouth her concern. Following her eyes, he nodded. "You're right. I'll see if I can find us some other clothes. Stay here."

"What? No, I'm not – "

But he was gone before she could even finish.

xoxox

She was alive. That was all she knew for certain. She remembered a turbulence of some sort, so intense it had knocked her over. Whereas she was sitting down before, she was laying face down now, by the feel of it. She was still panting by the force of the fall, the hit, or whatever it was. She thought she might have lost consciousness, but she could still hear voices – were they birds? – and so she figured it probably wasn't the case.

There was a groan nearby. She frowned. It was unlike the gay chirping that seemed to be surrounding her. This sound was deeper, more human somehow, and closer to her ear. She could feel the echo of it reverberating against her still heaving chest, almost as though it was coming from underneath her. Then a second groan resounded, followed by a slight movement, and she started into complete alertness, blushing scarlet when she realized Jack was laying on a patch of grass and she was sprawled on top of him.

Wait a minute... A patch of grass?

It was this odd piece of information which distracted her from the awkward position they had found themselves in. He didn't comment on her crashing him, nor did he try to push her off him. She could feel his chest rising and falling as though he, too, was breathless. The heat in her cheeks intensified. She got off him, trying very hard to avert her gaze.

She knew she was supposed to question their circumstances, but it was their surroundings that caught her attention first. They were outdoors now, so it was much brighter than the sitting room they had just left, but not entirely, as though it was overcast. She blinked several times to force her mind into focus. The sun didn't hurt her eyelids, so she assumed it wasn't midday, but possibly anytime around dusk. They were in a wood of some sort; she noticed thick vegetation not very far off. They seemed to be all alone in this strange place.

He sat up and looked around him as well. She expected to find a sign of recognition in his gaze, but there was none. Instead she found confusion and it made her uneasy. She thought he had known anything about everything.

"How did we get here?"

She chuckled darkly at the uncertainty hidden in his query. "I was hoping you could tell me."

She wasn't frightened. It was a strange realization, considering she had no idea where they were, but she felt rather calm and quite curious. She stood up, somewhat unsteadily at first, and looked around the perfectly shaped circle, surrounded by trees on all sides. She traced the outer lines of the circle in slow, even steps, seeking for a trail leading back into the woods. If there was a way out of there, it wasn't an obvious one.

"It's pretty here," she smiled tentatively as she returned to sit by his side. There was awe in his expression; it caught her off guard. Suddenly she felt extremely self conscious. "What?"

"You're not panicked."

She considered his comment, which was more a statement of facts than a question. Then she slowly shook her head. "No, I suppose I am not."

"From some reason I expected you would be in hysterics."

"What can I say? I just keep surprising you."

He laughed darkly. "That's for sure." They shared a smile. "Seriously, though. What happened? There was a thud and the next thing I know, we're..."

"Here," she completed, blushing faintly at the thought of how they had found themselves here.

Her forehead creased in confusion. There was something behind him, something small and rectangular that wasn't in correlation with the sea of green that surrounded them. His gaze followed hers. He reached out behind him and brought the thing – a book in some form – between them to inspect.

"What is this?" she asked, leaning closer. It looked like a book, but it was unlike any book she had ever owned. This one looked almost like a notebook. Jack's fingers fluttered over the cover, tracing the words that made out the title of the book and its author. But that was impossible. She recognized them. It was the same book...

"It's the same book we have just talked about."

She blinked as Jack's voice reflected the thought that was slowly forming in her mind. Although she knew his observation was correct, she couldn't help but question it, question herself. "It can't be. Mine looked completely different."

Her father had taught her that books should always be treated with respect, that each and every one of them was sacred. And yet, the first class girl inside her couldn't help the slight contempt she felt towards this notebook-like volume. It looked so frail comparing with her own hidden copy. She carefully leafed through it, holding her breath as though its pages would break beneath her touch. For a moment, she just stared at the words as though hypnotized. She recognized the opening paragraph and several o the passages that followed. The coincidence seemed too remarkable; somehow it was the same book.

"Whoa, hold on a second, stop!"

"What?" she asked hurriedly, startled by his frenzied order.

He smiled sheepishly, as though sorry for frightening her, and gently took the book into his own hands. He flipped quickly back to the second page where there was a list of some sort, and some strange marks. He traced his fingers along one of these lines, his eyes widening in shock with each move of his fingers. She leaned over to get a better look.

_Published in Penguin Popular Classics 1994_.

"Impossible," she murmured. "This is 1912. April 14 1912!"

"Not according to this book, it isn't."

But that must mean they must have... what, travelled in time somehow?

"But how did we..."

She couldn't even complete her query, as absurd as its answer was. The silence of the forest was interrupted by a sound of crashing against dry leaves and branches on the forest floor. Her frantic eyes met his.

She began to regret her dismissal of his jokes earlier. _Now_ she was panicked.

xoxox

She didn't know how long she was standing alone in that sitting room, but it didn't matter. She was surprised at how collected she had been. She half expected the tears to start at a much earlier stage, but she didn't even feel close to crying. Her recent near-death experiences, be it by James or the Volturi, had definitely put things into perspective. She laughed humorlessly at the thought.

Sighing, she crossed the room towards the doorway to the balcony. It was a private deck, she could now see, with very few pieces of wooden furniture and some nice flower arrangements. She didn't linger there to admire them, though. It was so cold she wasn't even tempted to look over the railing and make sure the ocean was truly out there. She went back inside and leafed through the papers on the desk again, hoping they would provide her with a clue, any clue, as for what happened.

She turned at the sound of a rustle. Edward was standing a small distance away from her. Her breath caught at the sight of him. His jeans and tee shirt were gone; he was now dressed to the nines in a tux. It fit him quite well, but he looked uncomfortable.

"You look dashing," she smiled bashfully.

He smiled meekly in reply, but didn't contradict her, although he seemed to have wanted to. "By the looks of it, this is a first class stateroom, lucky for us. We will manage to blend in nicely wearing these and it will come up handy in case…"

He didn't complete the thought, but she knew what it was anyway. In case the crew would be bringing out the lifeboats. She knew the story well. Most of the survivors were known to be first class.

She walked over to him and reached for his hands, hanging by his sides. Lacing their fingers together, she looked up at him. "We don't know what day it is. It might as well be the thirteenth, in which case we still have one more day to try and find a way out of here."

"But what if we don't, Bella? What if we're about to hit that iceberg in five minutes from now?"

There was true horror reflected in his eyes. She squeezed his hands, her eyes burning with questions. "You didn't read all those reports," he whispered, closing his eyes as a memory hit. "Learning about it from books and documentaries doesn't compare to the real thing." He opened his eyes and his eyes met hers. "I read people's testimonies for months after the ship sank. I was fascinated by their stories, as one would expect a boy of twelve. But the truth of the matter was that these were no mere stories. They were true accounts told by true survivors, and they were chilling."

There was no sound for a long moment. She couldn't think of anything to say to comfort him, and he was still trapped in a long-gone childhood memory. Then, a moment later, he shook his head. The distress in his eyes lifted ever so slightly. "There are several dresses on the bed in this room over here," he said, gesturing to a door behind him. "I think they might be slightly bigger for you, but they will do. Choose whatever you like. Look the part. I'll wait here."

"Okay," she said slowly, hesitantly. As much as she knew it was necessary, the thought of putting on someone else's clothes unnerved her.

"Bella," he stopped her when she was about to walk passed him, laying his hand gently on her arm. "See if you can find a coat in the wardrobe. If you can't find one I'll come and help you. We'll come back for it later, if…" His voice trailed ominously. He looked truly terrified and so she didn't question his request. He had tended to overfret when it came to her safety, but in this case she thought it was better not to doubt him. She nodded and walked into the room.

The bedroom was as lavishly furnished as the rest of the suite. She had to remind herself that she didn't have time to look around and that she must focus on the task at hand. _Look the part_, Edward had said. She crossed the room towards the bed, where four dresses awaited. They were all sophisticated looking, ones she had yearned to wear since she had become familiar with the world of Austen and Bronte.

She found herself drawn to a dress in lavender and ivory, made out of layers over layers of what she thought was chiffon. It might not keep her warm, but the vain part of her just couldn't resist it. The dress didn't look too complicated to wear and she was secretly grateful for that. She wouldn't know how to handle a corset, and she wasn't sure what Edward's response would be if she asked him to help her. She kicked off her shoes, shed her jeans and tee shirt hurriedly and put on the dress. Although it was a bit loose around the bust, it fit her well and showed off her narrow waist.

She was tempted to wear her sneakers again, but quickly gave up on it, knowing they would raise a few eyebrows. She stuck her feet in lavender-colored slippers. They were slightly bigger for her and far too girly for her taste, but they would have to do. She pulled the elastic band out of her hair, letting it fall against her shoulders. It was the best she could do, under the circumstances. There were several jewelry boxes open on the dresser. She chose a pearl necklace and a matching bracelet at random, hastily putting them on. She felt strange messing with some other girl's clothes and jewelry, but she kept reminding herself she had no other choice.

Although she was anxious to join Edward, go upstairs and explore, she couldn't help looking at the mirror before she left the bedroom. She could barely believe it was her reflection staring back at her. A giggle escaped her; she couldn't help it. She allowed herself another brief moment of vanity; she liked what she saw.

Edward was hunched over the desk as she reemerged into the sitting room, but he looked up as soon as she walked in. For a moment, he just stared at her jaw dropped. Then a small grin curled on his lips as he slowly approached her. "Perfect."

Her cheeks colored instantly. She lowered her gaze, her hand slipping along the soft fabric of the dress. The light in this room was dimmer, giving the fabric a kind of a pearly glow.

"This is exactly how I have envisioned you."

At the look of surprise in her face, he chuckled. "I've often wondered how you would look in the world I have come from. This comes pretty close to what I have had in mind. It suits you. It's as though you were born in this period." He walked over to her, gently took her hand and brought it to his lips. Too soon, though, his eyes darkened ever so slightly, refocusing on the mission in hand. "We will have to come up with a story."

"A story?" she echoed uncertainly.

"This is a very small enclosure. In voyages such as this one, people tend to know everything about everyone. They would remember not seeing us before, but more importantly, they would wonder who we are. A beautiful young woman is bound to raise questions," he said, making her blush again.

"So what will it be? Are we on our honeymoon?" she looked up at him, batting her lashes. To her enormous relief, it made him laugh. For just that moment, he seemed to forget about the imminent sinking of the ship.

"Suddenly the idea of marriage is appealing to you."

"No," she pouted. "But you will probably refuse to even hold my hand otherwise." She might have been born in the twentieth century, but she knew enough about the time he had come from to be sure of that.

He shook his head. "We can't pretend to be married. Neither of us is wearing a ring, and I refuse to do something as vile as stealing someone's wedding band, not even for this purpose." His forehead creased, and he looked deep in thought for a moment. "We could come up with some engagement story if you can find something that resembles an engagement ring in that bedroom. Or…" He flashed a devious smile at her. "We could say you're an orphan and that your recently deceased father has assigned me, his assistant, to escort you to your grandparents' mansion in America."

He made it sound so easy. Coming up with stories like that was born out of necessity in his new existence. It had become a habit for him. She wondered how many times he had done this before. She knew it wasn't a game, that a good enough lie would ensure their safety. Nonetheless and despite herself, she found herself enjoying it. "Can't I be an orphan _and_ your fiancée?"

"Sure," he laughed softly, reaching out for her cheek. "See if you can find a ring."

She pressed her cheek to his hand and thought of the sight they would make on deck, glamorous and youthful in their borrowed (she refused to think of them as stolen) evening clothes. Sudden confidence rushed through her, keeping her off guard. She stood on tiptoes and wrapping her arms around his neck, pressed her lips to his. Although he kissed her back, his distraction was apparent. She pulled away slowly, but kept her eyes locked on his. "Everything is going to be okay," she told him.

Now she just had to tell herself that.

xoxox

"What was that?"

The tremor in Jack's voice didn't go amiss by her. It only increased her terror. Surely if Jack was questioning something, something must be very wrong.

The sound was growing closer, and there was certain steadiness to it. This made her realize they might be footsteps, but of whom? Who would cross such thick vegetation so purposefully, and what for?

She didn't have to wait long to get her reply. The trees parted and a figure stepped into the meadow. A small boy, she thought at first. Only as the figure moved closer, she realized it wasn't a boy at all, but a petite woman whose hair was cut short. She couldn't do much but stare at her for a moment. She looked her own age, give or take a year. She had never seen a girl with hair so short before, not to mention one who was wearing trousers.

The strange young woman seemed equally surprised to find them there. "Where are they?" she enquired in the prettiest voice she had ever heard. It was sweet and had a bell-like ring to it. But it wasn't the only striking feature about her; nor was her short hair or unusual attire. It was her eyes which were the most unique. They were mesmerizing. For a moment, she forgot they had been asked something.

Jack seemed equally affected by the stranger. "There is no one here," he replied.

The strange girl-woman seemed at loss, as though she was expecting a different answer. "Where are Edward and Bella?"

"It's just us," she said once she found her voice again.

"But where are… how did you... I didn't see..."

"And who are you, exactly?"

She seemed startled by Jack enquiry, but only for a moment. And as though she had suddenly realized they were dressed quite differently than her, she blinked and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. My name is Alice Cullen, I... I live close by."

She didn't know what it was; instincts, perhaps, but she sensed there was something strange about the woman's reply. Before she could put her finger on it, though, Jack spoke again.

"I'm Jack Dawson. This is Rose DeWitt Bukater. This may sound really odd, but would you mind telling us where we are?"

Once again, it was difficult to know what the stranger was thinking. It was a moment before she replied. "You're near a small town called Forks in the state of Washington, and the year is 2006."

She blinked. Surely she had misheard her. "I beg your pardon?"

"You'd better come with me," said the stranger. Alice. "I'm not sure how you got here, but I know someone who might."

Her eyes met Jack's, and he nodded after a moment of hesitation. He seemed to be thinking what she had. No matter how they got there, they wouldn't be able to find their way back by themselves. They didn't know this Alice Cullen, but if she could help them in any way, perhaps they should simply trust her.

She stood up resolutely, and Jack wordlessly followed. Then, with uncertainty and hesitation, they left the meadow and followed the stranger into the depth of the forest, towards the unknown.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

By the time they reached their destination, she was overwhelmed. She was no stranger to be driven in cars, but never had she been in such a car, and so fast as well! She just stared at the passing view in awe through the window as Jack asked Alice one question after another. She was barely listening to their exchange at first, too stunned to watch this miniature of a woman being so confident behind the wheel. Her own mother would have killed her before she let her drive, she knew. She would use some of her favorite phrases such as _unladylike_ and _social embarrassment_. Somehow she got the impression that in this strange world they had stumbled into, women driving cars was not such an unusual sight.

From the little she had managed to gather so far, they were going to meet Alice's father, who might be able to shed some light on the situation. She had no idea how he was going to do so, but as of right now, he was their only hope. She hoped he would at least be able to tell them how they got there.

She clutched the book closer to her chest and heaved a soft sigh. She thought she had done well by bringing it along. It couldn't have been present at the scene by accident. It might have something do with what happened and she strongly believed that it had. While she hadn't yet known what the nature of its connection was, she hoped they would soon find it all out.

"Here we go, home sweet home," Alice chirped.

Jack opened the door for her and she took a deep breath to compose herself before stepping outside. The first thing she noticed was the silence that surrounded the big house that towered in front of them. There were no other houses around, but it was a sort of seclusion she had been used to. The big house was tucked neatly into the forest. It seemed almost an integral part of it, as though it had always belonged there. She had never witnessed that type of architecture before, but coming from a well-to-do family, she knew wealth when she observed it, and this white palace of glass and clean, straight lines radiated it. All things considered, she felt strangely safe there.

They followed Alice up the stairs that led to the front door. Neither of them said anything as she let them inside. The interior of the house seemed just as imposing. Beside her, Jack was gawking. She could hear the low whistle that escaped him as soon as they had walked in. She wouldn't be surprised if this was the closest he had ever come to such affluence.

Alice didn't even put down her car keys when a man appeared from another room. He must have heard the car pulling into the driveway. She couldn't help but gasp at first sight. He was dressed like no other man she had seen before, in dark trousers and a blue shirt that accentuated the gold in his hair. She found herself unable to look away from him. Stealing a glance at Jack, she was almost relieved to see the man had similar affect on him. He was mesmerizing.

"Welcome," he said, his voice strangely confident although his hesitation showed as he eyed his daughter curiously. Her forehead creased in confusion as she was suddenly reminded of this fact. Surely he was not old enough to be this young woman's father...?

"Carlisle, these are Jack Dawson and Rose DeWitt Bukater," said Alice, gracefully taking her place by his side.

"I'm Carlisle Cullen," he introduced himself, reaching out for Jack's hand first, then for hers. The gesture caught her off guard. All her life she had yearned to be treated as equal, and now that it had happened, she wasn't sure how to react. She smiled meekly, then placed her hand in his cold yet confident grip. "Welcome."

"Thank you, sir," said Jack. She echoed his words in a murmur.

"I just found them in the meadow," Alice informed her father.

"Edward and Bella's meadow?"

From the little they had learned from Alice in the car earlier, she now knew Edward was Alice's brother and that Bella was someone she had referred to as his girlfriend. While she was unfamiliar with the term, she gathered that the nature of their relationship resembled that of her and Jack's.

"Yes, except Edward and Bella weren't there."

"They are missing?"

"Rose, are you alright?"

Jack's query was mixed with Carlisle's, and their strange echo confused her. She was beginning to feel faint. Her head was spinning. All this tension was beginning to sip it. Combined with her growing exhaustion, it felt twice as bad. She felt as though the room was closing in on her. She could feel Jack's hand against the small of her back, and she found herself leaning against him for support, drawing comfort from his nearness. In this world, it seemed alright to act so boldly.

"Why don't you sit down," Carlisle suggested, and gestured towards a gray sofa at the far end of the spacious room. "Alice, some tea, I think, and something to eat. Esme is in the kitchen."

"Oh, please don't bother," she protested, although the thought of warm tea made her gums ache.

"It's no bother. I know this is a lot to take, but you're safe here. We'll try to help you as much as we can."

Carlisle led the way to the strangest sitting room she had ever seen and didn't sit down until they had. They all sat in silence for a moment, each with their thoughts. The silence in the house resembled the one outside; as though there was not a living soul residing here. In other circumstances, it would have been unnerving. Now they seemed to have no choice but to get used to it.

Carlisle cleared his throat; the sound shook her out of her reverie. "By your outfits, I estimate you've come here from earlier in the century; the nineteen twenties, give or take a few years."

"1912," she murmured, her fingers fumbling with the pink sash of her dress. The soft fabric was comforting in an odd sort of way. Just the other day she thought of her first class clothes as confining. Now they were the only thing she knew in this new, scary surroundings; the only part of her identity that still remained.

"Do you remember how you got here? It might give us an idea as for how to bring you back."

"And how to bring Edward and Bella home," Alice – now back in the room – cut in.

Before she could say anything else, a third woman joined them. Her appearance was as arresting as Carlisle's and Alice's. She wasn't exceptionally tall, but each of her features was well-defined and striking, from her feline posture to her auburn hair that fell in soft waves against her shoulders. She looked like an exquisite doll.

The stranger, like Alice, was clad in dark, fitted trousers along with an oversized sweater in soft gray. She had never seen a garment like this before. Even in her leisure hours at home, she had always been forced to wear dresses. The sweater looked so snug and soft she felt like running her hand along the strange woman's sleeve.

She was still admiring the woman's unusual outfit as she placed a silver tray on the small glass table in front of Jack and her. It contained sandwiches and some cookies as well as a tea set for two.

"Thank you, darling," Carlisle murmured. The woman smiled timidly and sat beside him. It was the first time she got a good look at her eyes and she had barely managed to stop the gasp that threatened to escape her. They had an exceptional color, like liquid amber. The same as her companions, she now realized. How strange. Perhaps everyone had golden eyes in the future?

"Rose, Jack, may I introduce my wife, Esme," said Carlisle.

"Hello, Esme," said Jack.

"How do you do," she added, trying to make the fact that she was staring slightly less obvious.

"My daughter tells me you have come here from far away," said Esme. Her strange eyes were glimmering with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Carlisle leaned forward and began to pour tea into two delicate china cups. The scent was intoxicating, reminding her she was really quite hungry. She had missed on dinner, searching for Jack throughout the ship. "Rose and Jack were just about to tell us how they think they got here."

"I'm afraid we don't remember very much," she said apologetically as he handed her a cup. The steam was a caress against her face; she didn't realize how cold she was. "We were sitting in my stateroom, reading, when all of a sudden –"

"Stateroom? On board of a ship?"

"Yes. My mother and I were on our way home to Philadelphia. Jack and I met on board." Her cheeks colored ever so slightly at the memory. She could feel his eyes on her, but resisted the urge to glance at him. "The last thing I remember is reading one of my favorite passages to him. Afterwards, everything went blank."

"It was this book," said Jack as he handed the book to Carlisle; "Only a different edition of it."

Carlisle barely had a chance to observe the cover when Esme started. "It's Bella's," she said. "It was in her bag when she arrived this morning, right before you left for work. Edward was making fun of her for reading it again, remember?"

Carlisle didn't reply right away. He leafed through the book quickly, and then, to her surprise, brought it close to his nose and inhaled. Then, after a long moment, he nodded. "This is Bella's book alright."

"Does that mean Edward and Bella have Rose's book?" asked Alice.

"Possibly," replied Carlisle, but he seemed uncertain. "Do you happen to remember the name of the ship you were on? It might give us a more clear idea as for where to look for them."

"Yes, of course. We were on board of the Titanic. The date was April 14, 1912."

Whereas she was quite proud of herself for being able to provide them with the necessary information, she had not expected their reaction. Their complexion was pallid to begin with, but after she spoke, they had gone even paler. She took in their bewildered faces one by one with growing puzzlement. "You _have_ heard of the Titanic, have you not?" she asked hesitantly.

"This is bad, Carlisle," said Esme. She seemed the most distressed out of the three. Her lips quivered, as though she was about to cry. She didn't know what she had said that had upset this woman so.

"Hush," Carlisle said softly, reaching for his wife's hand. "We can't know that. We don't know for certain that they are there. And even if they are there, Edward will figure it out. He will find a way to get them out of there. I'm sure of it." He said nothing for a moment, then seemed to compose himself, and gestured at the trey. "Here, you'd better eat something. I'm afraid I've got some bad news for both of you, regarding the Titanic."

xoxox

They had been wandering about the upper decks of the grand ship for nearly two hours now, but she was still gawking at everything, feeling very much like a child in an amusement park. Pristine architecture coming to life, the sound of an older, finer language, the luxury of people's clothes and jewelries; it was all so surreal. Up until then she believed she had known everything about the Titanic. The subject had fascinated her ever since she read a passage about it in a school textbook at the fifth grade. Now, being on board it, she realized she had known next to nothing at all.

While she was observing, she was also being observed. She couldn't figure out if it was because the other passengers had somehow sensed she didn't belong there, or because she was leaning against the arm of the handsomest man they had ever seen. She stole a glance at him and couldn't help but smile. Despite the apparent tension in his posture, Edward seemed to be feeling perfectly at home there, amongst a society he had known since his boyhood.

She couldn't find it in her to feel panicked, not yet. Soon after leaving the suite they had found themselves in, they learned today was indeed the fourteenth. In a matter of hours, the ship would sink. Whereas everyone strolled on obliviously around them, there was something ominous in their own pace, knowing something the other passengers did not. She looked around her sorrowfully. In a short while, all of this will rest at the bottom of the ocean forever. And this realization made sorrow stronger than panic.

"Do you want to go back inside and fetch a coat?"

She started at the sound of his question, and then shook her head, knowing it wasn't why she was suddenly shivering. He seemed to know it as well, because he squeezed her elbow in a tender motion that went unnoticed by everyone else on the promenade deck.

She held back a sigh of frustration. She knew it would be like that, subtle signs of affection. But that was not to say she didn't yearn for more, so much more. Nonetheless, she smiled at him, hoping it would lessen some of his anxiety. "This is nice," she said, tightening her grip on his arm ever so slightly. "I like being in your world."

He shook his head, as though he didn't know whether to laugh or cry at her observation. "Bella, you do realize you're about to witness a historical event in about an hour or so, don't you? One of the biggest tragedies in history?"

"I know I should be out of my mind with worry."

"Yes. You should."

"I'll get there." She had a feeling she was almost there. She could feel it sizzling at the pit of her stomach, threatening to overtake her as soon as she lowered her guard. She tried to ignore it by flashing another smile at him. "I know it's crazy, but I just want to pretend to be someone else with you, for a while."

He returned her smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. A moment or so later, he stopped on his tracks and unlinked their arms only to bring her hand to his lips. He kissed the ring on her finger, the one she had found in the bedroom; her fake engagement ring. "I like you're being in my world too." He paused for the briefest moment and his smile widened an inch. "Unbelievable. In half an hour we've become the talk of the first class. Everyone's been wondering who we are."

"Why, you're very difficult to ignore, Mr. Cullen," she simpered, batting her lashes like she'd seen in an old movie once.

He burst into laughter; he seemed unable to help it. His eyes darkened as he reached for her hand again. He sniffed the inside of her wrist in a brief, inconspicuous move. "You look quite exquisite yourself, Miss Swan." There was still laughter in his eyes as he lowered her hand. He glanced over his shoulder and looked back at her. "And everyone on board seems to agree."

Neither of them mentioned the pressing issue at hand as they continued their aimless stroll along the deck. At one point Edward glanced around them, and after making sure no one was watching them, he took his Rolex out of an inner pocket of his jacket. They both glanced at it. It showed half an hour before midnight. They looked up at the exact same moment, eyes locking on one another's. They both knew what it meant, but she spoke the words first.

"It's almost time," she said. She was surprised at how steady her voice sounded, how different it was from the tumble of emotions that was beginning to simmer inside her. He nodded in agreement, his expression grim. "Do you… want to go see it?"

"No." She was somewhat taken aback by his resolve. He seemed to notice, for he laughed softly and touched her chin. "I'd like to keep on pretending for a while longer, if you don't mind."

There were less people on deck now, given the late hour and the growing chill, only a lone couple here and there, young lovers like themselves. She acknowledged with a polite nod those who greeted them in a murmur, her heart twitching all the while. Sooner than later, all this happiness would be broken. How many of these girls would get to see their lovers when dawn broke?

As they crossed another bend, Edward suddenly tugged at her arm and pulled her towards a dark corner, away from prying eyes. She yelped at the suddenness of it, but didn't have a chance to tell him off when his lips came crushing against hers. She leaned against the opposite wall, losing herself in his kiss entirely. After all, she had longed to be kissed like that ever since they got there.

But she was only human, after all. Too soon she was getting dizzy, lightheaded, breathless. And as though he sensed it, he pulled away from her abruptly and started trailing icy kisses to the hollow of her neck. "Promise me," he ordered hoarsely.

"What?"

"Promise that until we're safely at home, you do whatever I say. _Everything_, Bella. No funny stuff or life risking nonsense, do you hear me? Because if I lose you here, I'm not sure I'll be able to get you back." Frenzied kisses forgotten now, he was completely serious, staring deep into her eyes. Their foreheads were nearly touching. His cool breath chilled her heated skin. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," she murmured, unable to look away. His stare was so intense.

"Please be more specific. I want to make sure you realize –"

She placed her finger against his lips. He hushed at once. "No life risking nonsense. I understand."

He smiled tenderly and kissed her finger. "Good."

They just stood there in silence, their breathings almost in sync. He didn't seem in a particular hurry, and despite the fact she knew the collision was probably mere minutes away, she felt perfectly safe there, in his arms.

She felt it when they hit the iceberg, or at least, she thought she had. They were still nestled in that corner, under the protective shroud of darkness, and so she couldn't see it, but she felt… something. Some vague shift, and then another, but it was so slight, slighter than she had imagined it would be, that she even wasn't sure it happened.

But clearly, Edward had felt it too. He let go of her only to check his watch again. Looking up at her, he simply nodded, his expression somber. She knew what it meant. He had his arms around her again as soon as he replaced his watch in his pocket. He held her to his chest.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he breathed in her scent.

"I'm not." Although she was beginning to feel it more potently now, bubbling just below the surface; that terror which had been in control so far was threatening to erupt. She tried to take a deep breath. It was mingled with a sob she had not anticipated.

He pulled away from her, making sure he had her full attention. They were done with pretending. The game was over. "As soon as word breaks on board, we'll go to find you a coat. Then you're going on a lifeboat. Immediately. No arguments."

He couldn't read her mind, but the growing distress in her eyes was clear for everyone to see. He pressed his icy lips to her forehead. "We _will_ find our way back. As soon as we are on solid ground, I promise. I swear to you. You just have to hold on for a little longer. Can you do that, Bella? Can you trust me?"

She was crying uncontrollably now, but she didn't even realize it until she tried to reply. "I trust you with my life," she whispered brokenly. Her arms snaked around his neck, clinging to him. He didn't try to shake her off, as though he sensed she drew comfort from his nearness.

They were standing there for what felt like forever, just listening, waiting. Hasty footsteps broke the silence every once in a while. Gradually, the sounds of footsteps were growing louder, their number increasing. Panic was slowly building on board of the Titanic, but they remained in their hiding place, still wrapped in each other's arms, as everything around them was slowly falling apart.

xoxox

It had been about an hour or so since she had entered this room. The Cullens were kind enough to suggest she would spend the night in one of the spare rooms. It had a bed, big and inviting, and an adjoining bathroom, which she had not expected. Alice had even lent her some nightwear like she had never worn before. It felt strange, to be clad in trousers like Alice and her mother's. They weren't as tight as the ones she had seen them wearing earlier; their softness felt unfamiliar against her skin.

She had been sitting by the windowsill for quite some time now, staring blankly into the night. Exhaustion was filling her to the core, and yet she found herself unable to sleep. She couldn't stop thinking about everything she had learned that evening, about the fate of the Titanic. It had bothered her far more than her and Jack's dismal circumstances. Was that to be their fate had they remained in her stateroom? Did that mean that upon their return, if they managed it at all, the world as she had known it would be lost? And what was she to do if that were to be the case?

She sighed, realizing just now the sheer power of wishing. Only the other day, she had wished herself free of them, of the limitation her own class had set upon her. All she wanted was heading towards the unknown with Jack. Now she seemed to have gotten her wish, but she hardly felt overjoyed.

She hesitated only a moment before she got up and left the room. She pondered whether or not she should change into a more modest attire, and then figured there was hardly anything revealing in the odd, oversized shirt she was now wearing, not to mention the loose trousers. Her hair was tied back in a braid, still damp from her shower. The shower in the adjoined bathroom was another pleasant surprise to this life, one she could marvel at it all night if there weren't some other pressing issues at hand.

She knew where she was headed. Before they parted on her doorstep some time ago, Jack told her to come and get him if she needed anything during the night. Well, she didn't need anything, not really. She just didn't want to be alone.

The hallway was deserted as she climbed upstairs. They must be all asleep, Carlisle and Esme, Alice and her other siblings they hadn't met yet. Jack was staying in the room of the missing sibling, the one they referred to as Edward. She shivered despite herself. If he and his girlfriend had indeed taken her and Jack's place somehow, she hoped they were safe, and would be home soon.

Jack opened the door almost as soon as she knocked on it. He had changed as well, and smelled clean, as though he too had showered. She smiled sheepishly at him. "Were you sleeping?" she asked him, suddenly fearing she might have woken him.

"No. Come in," he said, sidling to let her through. As she walked passed him, she couldn't help but laugh softly. They both looked so odd.

However, before she had managed to share her observation with him, she got a glimpse of the room she had just walked into and it was all forgotten. The spacious room was overwhelming on first sight. Jack laughed at her reaction. "It's quite something, isn't it? I think I could get used to this kind of life."

"What are these?" She asked, drawn towards endless shelves on the Western wall. They inhabited strange little boxes, dozens of them, in perfectly neat rows. She chose one at random. There was a name and a photograph on the plastic cover and something resembling a record, only much smaller, resting inside.

"I think it's music, but I'm not sure how to play it. Oh, and check this out," he said, gently tugging at her hand. She let him lead her across the room, where several photographs were stuck to the glass wall. They all depicted the same couple and she knew right away those must be Edward and Bella. She had the strange sense she had known them already after hearing about them all evening.

She observed them closely. He looked nothing like the family members she had already met, yet resembled them in other aspects, in a way she couldn't quite pinpoint. His bronze hair was in perfect disarray in each of the photographs. He seemed happy and careless as he was gazing deep into the eyes of the small brunette by his side. Both of them seemed unaware of their photograph being taken in each time. There was certain intensity between them, visible even through the photographs somehow. She could really feel the depth of their relationship by simply looking at them.

"It's almost time."

She tore her eyes from the photographs, confused Jack's his statement. Her eyes followed his, settling on the most peculiar clock she had ever seen. Although it had no hands, still she knew it was a clock. It read 11:30, glowing green in the dim light. According to Carlisle's account, everything would change on board of the Titanic in ten minutes' time.

"Can I stay with you?"

She laughed softly as he blinked at her request. No wonder, for the words startled her as well as she uttered them. But the last thing she wanted was spending the night alone in this strange place. She knew she could trust Jack. He would never do anything she had not consented to.

"Of course. Although I'm not sure where this guy sleeps; there's no bed in this room."

"This sofa looks comfortable enough."

"Alright," he whispered. He still looked somewhat diffident, like he did right after she had asked him to draw her portrait, but he didn't seem willing to refuse her. He turned off the light as she snuggled under the blanket someone had laid out on the black leather sofa. As he joined her, she curled up against him. He wrapped his arm around her waist with no hesitation. There was no embarrassment there, just solace. She heaved a deep sigh, finally in peace, and pressed her back closer to his chest.

"Everything is going to be alright, Rose," he murmured into her ear. Only then she was aware of the dampness around her eyes and down her cheeks, the sobs that made her whole body shake. "You're safe. I'm right here. I'm never letting you go."

She drew comfort from his promises, even if they didn't ring as true in her state of despair. They said nothing more, and soon he was fast asleep, breathing softly against her ear. She found herself unable to do so. She lay there in the warm circle of his arms and watched the clock as the hour 2:20 drew near. And as it did, she closed her eyes and prayed for Edward and Bella's safety, her mother's, and for the fifteen hundred souls she now knew would not – _could_ not – be saved.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

It felt as though she had been sitting there for hours, shivering to her core. There were four or five more lifeboats floating nearby, tiny specs in the midst of the vast ocean. All around her, women and children were sobbing, calling names and crying out for help. An officer was bellowing orders every now and again. The officer in her own boat was arguing with one of the women who demanded they would go back to find more survivors. At the far end of the boat, a woman kept murmuring the name Rose, looking into the dark depths in bewilderment. She closed her eyes, her own lips frozen around a different name, one she didn't even have the strength to utter.

It had been an hour or so since the ocean had swallowed the largest ship ever built. The Titanic sank into the abyss and the voices of the people who remained on it until its bitter end still echoed in the distance, but not as loudly or as persistently as at the beginning. The silence stretched thick and unnerving. The complete lack of sound was chilling. She could only imagine what it meant. As she looked into the darkness, she pretended to still see it there, a large shadow of a ship, but of course, it was nothing but her mind's eye.

She snuggled deeper into the coat they had managed to find for her earlier in a different suite. Her fingers were stiff beneath the pair of leather gloves. She could barely feel her feet, still clad in those small lavender slippers. She flexed her toes, trying to regain some of the lost sensation. She wondered what time it was. She knew the Carpathia would eventually come for them at the crack of dawn, but at the moment it seemed as though the night would be stretching on to no end.

_Edward_... As soon as she allowed herself to think of his name, her throat tightened with tears. She held them back stubbornly. This lifeboat had far too much of them as it was. Besides, it was silly to cry. Unlike any of these ladies and little kids who had probably lost their loved ones, she knew he was waiting for her somewhere, probably as anxiously as she did. She promised him earlier she would leave the ship as soon as the order came to evacuate. She kept her promise against her better judgment because she couldn't bear to lose him again. And still she felt as though some part of her had been left behind, with him.

She wondered how he had spent the Titanic's last moments. Was he helping the officers to keep everything in order, or charming ladies into leaving their loved ones and getting into the lifeboats? He must have done so. He must have made himself useful in some way. He wouldn't stand to be useless when other people's lives were at stake. She shook her head. After tonight, she would smack him if he ever claimed again he had no soul.

A strange thing to think of now, when the next daylight seemed anything but near or certain.

She tried not to think about the moment when they had been forced apart as she had been lowered down to the lifeboat. The memory of their last kiss still lingered on her lips; her arms were aching with loss. And their other kiss, a softer one, that he had pressed to her forehead, wordlessly sealing his own promise to be waiting for her on board of the Carpathia in several hours. When all this was over, he would come for her. He'd asked her to trust him and she did, with all her heart, but...

"Hey, kid, are you alright?"

It was a moment before she even realized someone was addressing her. She blinked through a veil of fresh tears, realizing too late they had come despite her attempts to stop them. Through their unwanted presence she could make out a plump lady who was watching her with concern. She was clad in a thick fur coat and yet she seemed cold. Her lips had a sickening shade of blue.

"Yes, fine," she murmured, looking down. She had sat quietly until now. She didn't want to draw attention to herself, terrified of saying the wrong thing. She was still unsure as for how they'd got here. Not that it mattered at the moment.

"What's your name? Are you here by yourself?"

"My name is Bella Swan. I'm... I mean, there's no one..." Her voice trailed. Suddenly it was too cold to think; she was too overwhelmed by her own misery to remember their cover story.

"Hey, now…" The stranger scooted closer, reaching out for her face. She began drying her tears with her chubby, glove-clad thumb. The maternal motion only made it worse. The older woman cooed and gathered her in her arms. She buried her head in the soft fur, crying desperately now. "It's alright, sweetheart. Everything is going to be alright. There's a ship on its way and we're going to be rescued real soon. And as soon as we're on board we'll find your Mamma."

"No. My mother, she's not… I'm not here with…" And then relief surged through her as she remembered. She pulled away just enough to find the stranger's eyes. "My parents are dead. My fiancé, he's… out there."

The woman's kind eyes followed hers into the distance. She seemed to have understood, for she shook her head and her grip tightened ever so slightly. "You poor little thing," she murmured.

"No. You don't understand. He didn't… He's not… He's alright. He'll be waiting for me." Somehow, having this woman believe Edward wouldn't survive, as unlikely as this option had been, was raising self doubts within her.

"Of course he will be waiting for you, honey. Of course he will."

It was obvious the woman was saying that to make her feel better. She didn't really believe Edward was capable of surviving the sinking. She didn't know his circumstances were different. He couldn't drown or freeze to death. He would be perfectly fine, albeit slightly battered. She held on to that belief. She had to.

The woman sighed; the sound forced her out of her reverie. "Why don't you stay here with me, and I'll keep you warm until we're rescued. Huh? How about that? My name is Molly Brown."

She nodded, part in acknowledgement, part with consent. She was too cold to refuse the woman's kind offer or try to be brave and humble. She clung to Molly as though she was her own mother. Funny; she felt a little better already. The sobs lessened to soft whimpers, then reduced to sniffs every now and again. She took a few deep breaths and soon they were gone altogether.

"That's better, sweetheart," Molly murmured. "Don't close your eyes. Stay awake. Talk to me. Tell me a bit about yourself. You're an American, right? I can tell by your accent. Were you in England on a holiday?" She nodded. She thought it would be best, as she and Edward hadn't come up with a more elaborate story. "How old are you?"

"I'm eighteen."

"You poor little thing. Eighteen and already all alone."

"I'm not alone. Edward will be waiting for me on the Carpathia and we'll..." Her voice trailed as panic took over, momentarily numbing her distress. Had she said too much? How many people had actually known it was the Carpathia that would be coming for them?

Molly nodded sympathetically. "Of course he'll be waiting, love," she said again, probably thinking the extreme cold was making her delirious.

They sat in silence for a moment longer. At the edge of the boat, the woman resumed her calling for Rose.

Molly glanced in her direction and heaved a deep sigh. "Poor Ruth."

"Do you know her?"

"We met on board several days ago. She was on board with her daughter Rose. Quite a character, her daughter was. Feisty. A redhead." Her smile was nostalgic, filled with pain.

"Was? She didn't make it?"

"I don't know. We couldn't locate her by the time of the evacuation. It's like she's vanished. Poor Ruth has been in hysterics ever since."

For some reason, it felt good to hear about someone else's problems. It lessened the burden of her own issues. "Maybe she's in another boat."

"I'd like to believe that she is. The girl is your age. And while it certainly makes Ruth appreciate her far more than I think she has... It's just sad, seeing families being torn apart that way."

Molly's face remained sealed, but the emotion reflected in her eyes. It made her wonder whom had she lost on board tonight. She stared into the endless darkness and could only hope dawn would be breaking soon and would bring not only their salvation, but also the reunion she had been yearning for.

xoxox

At first, she thought it had only been a dream.

She remembered things only vaguely. They were mere glimpses of places and colors, sounds and sensations. Memories were mingling into one another in her state of pre-wakefulness; a kiss at twilight, a warm suite, a portrait, a book, and then, always at the end of things, darkness. But despite the haze that seemed to wrap around her consciousness, there was one constant thing to all of her recollections. The memory of Jack's arms being wrapped protectively around her as she had finally drifted to sleep was the most poignant of them all.

She opened her eyes, squinting as soon as she did. Sun came through from all angles, dazzling and bringing alertness more forcefully upon her. The events of the previous night slowly sipped in as she took in her surroundings. The glass wall had no curtains to keep back the glare of the sun. The view outside was mostly green, and she was instantly reminded of the forest nearby. Then her gaze fell on the photographs and her memories seemed to set themselves in the correct order in her mind.

She groaned inwardly at the actuality of it all. It was most definitely not a dream then. They were still in 2006. The Titanic sank only a few hours ago, and somehow, due to some odd twist of fate, they were spared its dismal destiny.

She leaned back and closed her eyes, yearning for sleep to take over, for the blissful numbness it could offer her, but it didn't come. This was when she also realized Jack was no longer sleeping beside her. She wondered where he was and what time it was. She remembered there was a strange looking clock in the room, but looking up to find it meant facing the new day, and she wasn't sure she was up for it yet.

Her stomach rumbled, as though in contradiction, and she chuckled bitterly. She found it strange that despite the lack of knowledge that still hovered over their circumstances she could still feel some fundamental needs such as hunger.

Someone, possibly Alice, had left some clothes and undergarments for her by the door. There were those strange trousers again, and a woolen sort of shirt which would compliment her hair color. There was even a pair of shoes. It all seemed to be in the right size. She smiled as she felt the different textures of each item. She couldn't even begin to think how to repay their hosts for their kindness and hospitality, but she was grateful for it, nonetheless.

Once she was dressed and ready, she left the room and began her search for Jack. Her cheeks colored ever so slightly at the thought of the way he held her the previous night and the comforts he whispered in her ear. She had to admit to herself that after sneaking behind everyone's backs on the Titanic to spend time with him, she reveled at their current freedom. No one seemed to care for classes or for the strict rules of courtship here. She was free to choose whomever she wanted, to love whomever she wanted –

She shook her head, sending the notion away as soon as it found its way into her mind. It was far too soon to think of matters of the sort.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard his voice, and then a feminine voice. It came from one end of the living room, a part of the house she hadn't been to yet, but the strong scent of coffee was a telltale sign as to which room it was. She walked over there somewhat hesitantly, running her fingers through her hair, hoping she hadn't done some colossal mistake while putting on this unfamiliar attire.

Two heads looked up at her entrance. Jack smiled at her when their eyes met. She returned his smile, timidly, remembering once more the warmth of his embrace. Sitting gracefully on a high stool next to him was Esme, who also smiled at her. "Good morning, Rose."

"Good morning," she replied bashfully.

"Come sit down. Do you drink coffee? Here, let me get you some."

There was no point stopping Esme; she was already across the kitchen, taking a mug out of a cupboard. She murmured a quick "thank you" and came to sit next to Jack.

"You look nice," he smiled at her, but then his eyes darkened with concern. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, I did, thank you." There was not a trace of the teary-eyed girl he had seen the night before. She _was_ better now, she realized. This was how things were. There was no point basking in her misery. Until they set things right, she would make the best out of this experience, she decided.

Her eyes fell on a napkin that lay between them on the counter. Her eyes widened in surprise and she picked it up to get a closer look. It was more of a sketch than a portrait. It had clearly been done in haste, but it depicted Esme's startling beauty to perfection. "Oh, Jack," she murmured, slowly placing the napkin back on the counter.

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" Esme said, beaming, as she placed the steaming mug in front of her. "People have drawn my portrait before, but never with such skill."

"He's very talented," she agreed, still in awe of the hastily drawn portrait.

"It's nothing," Jack protested. His cheeks colored ever so slightly. The sight made her smile.

"You must let me get you a drawing pad and some pencils," said Esme. "I don't think we have any around the house, but I'm sure to find something in the Arts and Crafts shop in town. I won't take no for an answer," she added hurriedly when she saw he meant to protest. "You're my guest. I mean, really, Jack, with this amount of skill, I'm surprised you haven't applied to art schools before."

"Well," he started slowly. Esme's comment was made innocently, but it must have reminded him of his former circumstances; he seemed embarrassed. "I didn't really have the means to do that in the period we come from."

Esme nodded, clearly understanding what he meant. She smiled encouragingly at him. "It's much easier nowadays," she said. "The best schools offer scholarships for gifted applicants. I do believe you have what it takes to be considered a gifted applicant."

"It sounds wonderful," he smiled politely, but also a little sadly. "Too bad we can't stay here for long, then."

She couldn't pinpoint the sentiment Jack's words carried, but she didn't linger on it. Instead, she set out to make her own enquiries. "What is it like, life in this time?"

"Oh, it's so very different from the time you come from. It's a much better time for women. It's not always easy, but it's definitely easier. It's a tough world to live in, but it's a more convenient time, too. There are cars and airplanes, there are telephones and televisions and computers – "

Esme's tale was cut off abruptly as loud clamor rose from the living room. She recognized one of the voices as Carlisle's. The other voice was unfamiliar to her, and far less restrained. It was all but coming through the walls. Esme winced, then sighed quietly. She seemed to have recognized it.

"Don't tell me to calm down, Carlisle! You know I've got nothing but the deepest respect for you and Esme, but this is going way too far. Now send her down. Wake her up if you have to. Tell her it would be much worse if I have to go up there to get her."

"I'm telling you, Charlie, Bella is not here. You can go upstairs and see for yourself."

"Why would I believe you? Where else would she be at this hour, since she is not under my roof, sleeping as she should be? He's put her through trouble twice in the past already, Carlisle. Yes, I'm keeping score. For all I know, they eloped to Vegas in the middle of the night!"

"Edward has nothing to do with this."

"He's got _everything_ with this! Bella's had nothing but trouble ever since he waltzed into her life! I swear to you, Carlisle, if something happens to my little girl – "

"If something happens to your little girl, I will hold myself just as responsible."

There was a pause. She and Jack eyed each other fretfully. Esme looked paler than usual as she listened intently to the exchange. Jack meant to ask her something, but she raised her arm to hush him. Soon afterwards, Carlisle spoke again.

"Something did happen yesterday, Charlie, but I still don't understand it myself." Another pause, a brief one. "I think you'd better sit down. Can I get you some coffee? I think Esme has just made some."

There was a mumbled agreement on Charlie's side, and a moment or so later Carlisle walked into the kitchen, his expression grim as he received an empty mug from Esme's hand. He barely acknowledged her and Jack as he filled it with steaming dark liquid. She didn't mind it; he seemed quite shaken and she could hardly blame him. That man outside sounded horrific.

"Is he alright?" Esme asked him anxiously.

"No, but I didn't expect any less of him. He didn't see Bella before he left for his night shift and the house was empty when he returned this morning. He assumed she would be here." He looked up at them then and shook his head wearily. "I think you'd better come with me."

She was somewhat hesitant to face this man whose voice had sounded so menacing. Carlisle's description made the impression of a father worried about his missing daughter, which was certainly admirable, but she was not used to such uncivilized tones. Nonetheless she followed him and Jack into the living room.

The man who was sitting on the sofa didn't seem as threatening as she had perceived his voice to be. He was dressed in some sort of uniform in dark blue, and his lips were curled in discontent beneath a dark mustache. He didn't look vile, just desperate. And she could see the girl in him, Bella, from the little she had observed in the photographs the night before.

Carlisle stepped forward and placed the mug on the small table. "Rose, Jack, this is Charlie Swan, Bella's father. Charlie, these are – "

"With all due respect, Carlisle, I don't care who they are unless you're about to tell me they are going to bring Bella home."

"They have to do with her and Edward's absence. I thought it was necessary for you to hear what they have to say."

"We're very sorry your daughter is missing, sir," she started, her voice trembling slightly. She glanced at Jack, who nodded encouragingly. Then she took a deep breath and continued, drawing comfort from his nearness. "We're not quite sure how to explain what happened yesterday. We just found ourselves in Edward and Bella's place, and it seems likely that they have found themselves in ours." She was barely making sense to her own ears. She shot Carlisle a desperate look.

"What Rose means to say – and I need you to be open-minded about this, Charlie – is that Edward and Bella might have time travelled to the period from where she and Jack have come to us."

For the longest time, there was silence.

"Time travelled," Charlie echoed eventually, hesitantly, as though he wasn't sure of the term itself. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that?" When Carlisle didn't reply, Charlie let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. I'll play. These kids time travelled. Where have you come from? Or shall I ask when?"

"1912, sir," said Jack, cringing only slightly against the man's skeptical look.

"I'm afraid it gets worse, Charlie," said Carlisle. He eyed them briefly before bringing his attention back to Charlie. "When Jack and Rose found themselves here yesterday evening… The last thing they both remember is being on board of the Titanic."

It took barely a second for the meaning of this to sink it. Charlie went pale, almost as pale as Carlisle. "Bella is on the Titanic?" he whispered.

"It appears so. We don't know for sure. We're doing everything we can to bring her back."

"You _will_ bring her back, Carlisle. You'll bring her back or I swear to God, I'll kill your son with my bare hands."

She couldn't decipher the hint of a smile that crossed Carlisle's face. Charlie didn't seem to notice it. Before she could make sense of it, though, it vanished. "That won't be necessary, Charlie. We'll do everything in our power to figure this out."

"What can I do?"

"Why don't you go home for a while? Get some rest."

"Like I could," Charlie snorted.

"Try. It's going to be a long day as it is and you need your strength. You're more than welcome to stay here, but I think you'll be much more comfortable in your own home. We'll let you know as soon as we know anything."

"You'd better do that." The menacing tone was back, but only on the surface. He was clearly exhausted, and no wonder, if he had indeed worked all night. He took another sip of coffee and then got up. "Alright. You win. But Carlisle – "

"It's going to be alright, Charlie. I'll take care of it. She'll be fine."

xoxox

Time passed slowly on board of the Carpathia. She had spent the majority of the day alongside Molly Brown since they had been rescued early in the morning. In the first few hours, the silence on board was unnerving. Everyone seemed overwhelmed by their ordeal at sea. Slowly, gradually, more voices began to be heard, sounds of light chatter, even a giggle every now and then. Arguably, mostly the children giggled. Some even chased one another along the decks. They made a strange image, running carelessly among the grieving women who stared emptily at nothing in particular.

She couldn't sit still. She knew Edward was on board. She could almost sense it. He must have his reasons for not coming for her just yet. Even if she had set out to search for him around the ship, she wouldn't know where to look. It was a relatively sunny day and she hung all her hopes on that fact. He wouldn't want to reveal himself in the sunlight. He would wait till dusk. And so she would have to wait as well.

In the meantime, she tried to be as useful as possible especially in the infirmary, but even this small task frustrated her. She hoped she could do more than just holding damp clothes to people's foreheads or uttering reassurances and empty promises. Nothing she could do or say would make things better for them. They were beyond comfort. They had lost everything the previous night.

She took a new tartan blanket from a pile in the corner of the room and wrapped it around her. The wool felt prickly and unfamiliar against her skin, but at least it kept her warm. It was a blessing in many ways. Her coat was soggy and useless by the time they had come on board. The blankets also helped concealing her dress from Molly's friend Ruth, who had burst in tears whenever she caught sight of it. It must have reminded her of her own lost daughter, Rose.

"Come and have some tea, Bella," Molly beaconed to her when she entered the spacious room where most of the survivors had gathered. Many of them had no desire to sit outside, where the sight of the ocean was a constant reminder of their loss. "I was about to go and find you at the infirmary. I was beginning to worry."

She crossed the room to join Molly and accepted the delicate cup filled with tea from her hand. Its aroma was overwhelming. Her stomach growled in protest. She had hardly eaten anything today. "There's just so much to do."

"You just need to watch yourself, dearie. You don't want to come down with something yourself."

She shook her head, dismissing the older woman's concern. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure you don't want to lie down? Just for a little while. You're looking a little flushed. You must maintain your strength."

But she was barely listening to Molly's imploring. Her eyes were set on the entrance of the room, where a man was now standing, scanning the large crowd. She was sitting as far away from the entrance as possible, but it didn't matter. His eyes set on her as soon as she muttered his name. He didn't smile, but even with this enormous distance between them, she could see the relief that instantly lightened up his achingly beautiful face.

She stood up; it was a moment before her legs stopped shaking. The blanket fell off her shoulders, forgotten. Everything else in the room ceased to exist. She was aware of Molly calling out her name, but she couldn't bring herself to look away from him. Slowly, she made her way across the room through the sea of people until his image became closer and closer. Never in her life was she so happy to see him, not when he rescued her from James' torture or when she finally found him in Italy. The last several hours were ten times worse. She knew she would see him again, and yet spending those few hours apart was excruciating.

Finally, _finally_, she was standing right in front of him. His eyes were glimmering, half with relief, half with concern, a combination she had come to associate with him. He didn't say anything, didn't question her. For once it seemed as though he knew exactly what she was thinking. He opened his arms just in the right moment for her to step into them. She closed her eyes, letting his familiar scent wash over her. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, just as he had done several hours before. She thought she felt his lips curl in a smile, but she wasn't sure.

"Are you alright?" he murmured without letting go of her.

She let out a shaky laugh, leaning her cheek against his coat. It would be silly to fall apart now. There was no reason to. Edward was here. She looked up, taking him in. He looked slightly shaken, but the cold night they had just spent in the middle of the ocean didn't seem to have any impact on him. His golden eyes were weary, following hers as she shifted and slowly wrapped her arms around his neck. Something flashed in his eyes; a warning, she thought. This wasn't something a proper lady would do at this time and age.

But the truth of the matter was that at that moment, she didn't give a damn about conventions.

She pressed herself closer, narrowing the remaining distance between them, and gently brought his head down so she could press her lips to his once, twice. She could feel his resistance slowly melting away until eventually he relented. Their lips locked together again in a kiss so tender it almost brought tears to her eyes.

"Yes, I'm okay," she replied at last. When he tried to pull away she didn't let him, clinging to his coat, and so they remained standing there, foreheads pressed together, wrapped in their own bubble of bliss, completely unaware of Molly Brown, who was following the entire scene from her place across the room.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"There," Alice's voice shook her out of her reverie. She blinked and the room swam back into focus. Alice was beaming at her through the mirror. "You look _perfect_."

She stared at her reflection in shock. She had spent the last three hours or so in Alice's room, where the smaller woman insisted on dressing her up, painting her nails and doing her hair. It all felt extremely unnecessary. At a time like this, shouldn't she be at Carlisle's den with Jack, trying to find their way back?

Nonetheless, Alice was unrelenting. Carlisle and Jack would be fine on their own, she insisted. She deserved to be pampered, after the awful ordeal she had undergone. She had to admit that it felt good to be taken care of this way. Alice seemed to be enjoying herself tremendously, judging by the amount of giggles and squeals of delight she had let out in the passing hour or so. And she had done a good job as well. She could barely believe the girl gazing back at her was herself.

"How did you do that?" she asked, touching a lock of her hair, set in a perfect curl. Normally she would have Trudy twist each strand around a piece of cloth every night, a tedious task neither of them was fond of. But there were no clothes scattered around the floor, and yet she thought she had never seen her hair looking so pretty before.

"I simply used one of these," said Alice, and held up an elongated can for her to see. It was silver and had some writing on it in bright turquoise. "It's called mousse. Hair products come in all sorts of textures for all sorts of hairstyles these days. This one is especially fitted for curly hair like yours. I tried it on Bella's hair once. She's got a hopelessly straight hair; what a mistake that was!" She batted her eyelashes dramatically and placed the can back on the counter. "It looks pretty, doesn't it? And it leaves your hair far softer and healthier than the dreadful things people used back then."

"It's unbelievable," she murmured. The red in her hair looked vital, vibrant, and those _curls_!

"You better believe it," Alice giggled. "I didn't really do anything. I just highlighted what was already there! These clothes, for instance," she said, gesturing at the dress in midnight blue she was now wearing. The material ended just below her knees; it was definitely the shortest dress she had ever worn. "This color does wonders to your hair and eyes. And no offence, but this outfit is much more becoming than the one I have found you in."

She couldn't help but laugh. Alice's enthusiasm was contagious, but she felt obliged to defend herself. "Excuse me, I _am_ quite fond of that dress."

"It was awfully pretty, of course, but it's so… backward! In this day and age, it's okay to show off your assets every now and again. You're a beautiful girl. You need to flaunt it, not hide it. _Ooooh_! I should make it my motto!"

She returned Alice's smile and observed the dark dress more closely. She couldn't help but wonder what Jack would think when he saw her wearing it. She was sure that was part of Alice's plan, although she didn't question it. "It is… easier to handle," she concurred.

"Exactly! Far easier than any of these awful corsets, you must agree."

"Well," she said, blushing. She wasn't used to speaking so openly about her, well, undergarments. "They really are awful. But we don't have many other options, do we?"

"I find bras dreadfully confining, but they're far more comfortable in comparison, don't you think?"

All of a sudden she felt speechless, regardless of the awkward subject. She could barely string two words together as she observed the hair and makeup products that were lined on the counter in front of them and the hopeless mess on Alice's bed through the mirror. Alice must have noticed the dimming light in her eyes, for she placed a hand on her shoulder. Their gazes met in the mirror. Alice's eyes glimmered with concern. "What is it?"

"I was just thinking… I was going to miss this. I've never had many friends. Certainly not friends like you."

"Oh, that's easy," said Alice, shaking her head dismissively. "Just stay."

It was only two words, but they spoke volumes. "What, here? In 2006?"

"Why not? You see how much easier everything is nowadays. And sure, the world can be an awful place at times, but back in 1912 you're only a few years away from the First World War and let me tell you, it won't get any better in the years to come," she said, waving a hairbrush this way and that for emphasis. Then she placed it on the counter and knelt beside her. "Plus, and I swear this is an objective observation, the twentieth century really becomes you. You can do so much more here, Rose. You can be whoever you want to be. Why would you even consider going back?"

For that, she had no reply; none which made sense, at least.

Her reflection was distracting. She left her seat and turned her back on it, sitting on Alice's bed. There was a shuffle of feet behind her and then Alice came to sit by her side.

"What did you want to be? I mean, before you got here. People must have asked you that."

She shook her head, realizing Alice's query had upset her. "They didn't, not really. They didn't want to know; they weren't expecting an actual reply. Asking children, especially girls, what they wanted to be when they grew up was nothing but a silly notion."

But there was one person who cared, one person who had listened to her whimsical dreams about becoming an actress or an artist or a historian, the only person who had actually believed she could be one of these things when she was older.

"My father never thought they were silly," she added, smiling sadly.

"Was he on the Titanic with you?"

"No. He passed away shortly before my sixteenth birthday."

"I'm sorry." There was a short pause, after which Alice scooted closer to her and lay a hand on her knee. The gesture startled her, but she didn't draw back. "I know it's not comforting in any way, but I barely remember my own parents. At least you were old enough to know him and remember him."

"Your parents? But I thought Carlisle – "

"Does he really seem old enough to be my father?" Alice laughed softly, and she thought it really did make little sense. "No. He and Esme adopted me when I was little. We're all adopted."

"How many siblings are you?"

"Five in total. Three are away; I doubt you'd meet them. And Edward, well…"

"Are you very worried about him?"

"Not exceptionally. I know he'll find his way back."

"It must be nice, having such a big family. I'm an only child." The truth was her mother had lost several babies after she was born, but she found it highly improper to reveal as much to a mere stranger.

"No one should be allowed to be an only child. Bella is an only child too. I don't know what she'd do without us, to be honest." Alice rolled her eyes. "But you still haven't answered my question. What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"It doesn't matter," she whispered, and certain defeat washed over her. It felt as though her reflection's eyes were drilling holes in her back. "There's slim chance for any of it to happen, so I see no point in thinking of it any further."

"But can't you see?" whispered Alice, looking at her intently. "You can make it happen, here. All of it. You can be more than someone's wife or mother. You can be yourself."

And it sounded wonderful, too wonderful to be true, but could she really do it? Could she really discard a full life in her past just to ensure herself with an unknown future?

She remembered how self assured she felt the night they got here, how confident she was in her future. She meant to leave everything familiar behind to pursue something she wanted, to be with Jack. So how was now any different? And when she was so close to making her wish come true, was this really what she wanted?

xoxox

The work didn't seem to stop at the infirmary. It had only been her second day there, but already she felt she had been there for weeks. Most people recognized her by name now, and she smiled at them encouragingly, answered their questions and tried to be as optimistic as possible about what lay ahead. Edward was also there, but she knew it was mostly in order to keep an eye on her rather than his wish to help out in this moment of crisis. It didn't take long for the rumor of their romance and engagement to spread among the patients, and that brought on a whole new set of queries.

She smiled to herself, feeling silly. It felt almost wrong to be so happy. Whenever he was near her, it felt as though she was walking on air. She knew she should be more aware of the uncertainties that were still looming over their future, but she couldn't bring herself to do so just yet. She could overcome anything as long as he was around. Now that the momentary crisis had passed and they were reunited, she could be completely honest with herself. Never in her life had she felt more in love, more careless, than in the past few days.

The gust of cold air came out of nowhere, startling her. "Are you going to eat something this time?" he murmured into her ear.

Heart still pounding, she put aside the bandage she was folding and turned to face him. His eyes were gleaming despite the concern she found in them. "Is it time for dinner already?"

"Yes, and you've been on your feet for nearly twelve hours." He was composed, but she detected the discontent that snuck into his voice. "I'm sure no one would mind it if you took a break every now and then. You won't be able to help any of these people if you get sick yourself." He touched her cheek gently, and she leaned her face against his palm. Whereas at first he was reserved about any public display of affection, in the last twenty four hours or so he seemed to be softening and she had definitely intended to take advantage on it.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"You think you're fine. I know you hate to be reminded of it, Bella, but you are in fact only human." He laughed softly when she pouted in response. "Come on, please? Have one bowl of soup. Then you can come back here if you still feel up to it."

"Will you feed it to me?" she asked, laughing at his disgusted expression. She stood on tiptoes and placed a kiss on his lips before she followed his lead out of the stuffy room.

They fetched her some soup and he walked her to a quiet corner on the outer deck. Then he sat beside her and handed her the bowl. The aroma rising from the steaming liquid was mouthwatering, reminding her she had indeed eaten very little since the previous day. She didn't even need convincing when she dipped a spoon into it. He nodded in approval. His eyes never left hers until she ate at least four spoonfuls.

"You're very good at this," he said then. She peeked at him, distracted. "You've always been the caretaker, but when I first met you, you fainted at the sight of blood. I never dreamt I would see you spend so many hours in an infirmary."

"That's different," she contradicted him, blushing faintly. There was awe in his voice which made her feel self-conscious. "There's no blood anywhere. No one's wounded. I can't imagine I'd do that if we time travelled to the First World War instead."

"I'm just saying it's something you should consider."

"What, now you want to enroll me into nursing school?" she laughed, but it soon died out when she caught sight of his expression. "You do."

"I just think you would make a wonderful nurse." But he didn't elaborate and she didn't have a chance to insist that he would. In an instant, his expression changed. "We have company," he murmured, a split second before Molly Brown appeared.

"There you kids are," she beamed at the two of them as though she had been searching the entire ship after them. Her eyes fell on the bowl of soup, now nearly empty, in her hands, and her smile grew even wider. "Oh, good, you're eating. That was partly why I have been looking for you."

"Is something wrong?" she asked, unsure she liked what she found in Edward's eyes. He sat just a little straighter now, a defensive stance she had seen before. Clearly, he knew what Molly had come there to say.

"No. Well, not exactly. I've been meaning to speak to you in private and now I seem to have my chance." Her eyes fell on Edward; for a split second she seemed to have lost her bubbly demeanor. "If I'm right, then you probably already know what it is I want to ask."

A gasp she couldn't hold back escaped her. Of course, everyone on board would notice Edward was different. They would have to be blind not to. But Molly spoke with intention, as though she had known much more than she should.

"You two might have fooled everyone else, but you cannot fool Molly Brown. Now tell me who you really are and how on earth you got here."

"I'm not sure what you…" her voice trailed when Edward placed his hand on hers.

"Don't, Bella. There's no point," he said, looking straight at Molly. "She knows."

"How?"

"It's quite easy to tell if you're observant enough, which is why I doubt anyone else on board has noticed." Their eyes met and Molly's expression softened. "You gave yourself away, sweetheart. You were so certain someone would be coming for us while we were waiting in the lifeboats. You knew the Carpathia by name. It wasn't difficult to put it all together." Then her eyes grew playful as she shook her head at them. "And I don't care how happy you were to see Edward on board; no proper young lady would welcome him as enthusiastically as you had when you met yesterday."

By her side, Edward chuckled softly. She knew it was because she was blushing. She could feel it. Her cheeks burnt at the memory of the previous day.

"I can already guess how _you_ made it on board safe and sound. And I won't ask you why you're not eating anything. I've seen the likes of you before. What interests me more is how you two found yourselves here."

"We're not sure, to be honest," Edward said, and she was surprised at the calmness in which he had accepted Molly's confession at encountering other vampires in the past. "We think it's a book that brought us here. Unfortunately, it went down with the ship, so I'm not quite sure we could consult it to get back."

"Get back where?"

"To 2006," she replied.

Molly whistled, looking oddly impressed. "You're quite away from home then, kids. This isn't a game. I just heard that if all goes well, we'll be docking in New York tomorrow evening. What do you think to do once we get there? Where will you stay? How will you get by?"

"I have some money on me," said Edward. This was news to her; he must have kept his wallet while changing into his tux. "Of course, it will be worthless in this period. Perhaps I could give my father's name at the bank in order to withdraw some money from his account."

Although she didn't seem to care much for Edward's origins, Molly did go slightly pale at the mention. "Your father?"

"I spend my childhood in the nineteen twenties," he replied, unfazed by her reaction. "My father kept some of the family's assets in New York."

"Well, if that helps, you can come with me to my hotel suite. I could lend you some money to get by for a couple of days, until you figure out what to do or how to get back."

"Thank you. That would be very kind of you," Edward told her.

"But now I'm much more interested to hear about all the wonderful things I would be missing on in the future. Don't leave stuff out. I want to know _everything_."

Her comment broke the tension a bit, and they spent the next few hours telling Molly everything she had wanted to know about the place they called home. For the time being it was easier to absorb oneself in anecdotes and memories than ponder the issue of their imminent arrival to New York in a day's time. She drew comfort from Edward's nearness and tried her hardest to pretend nothing but the present had existed.

xoxox

They missed lunch because Alice wanted to take her to a small town called Port Angeles, and upon their return, it was passed dinner time. Esme relented to make them a quick snack, at the end of which she ate and Alice asked her more question about the century she had lived in, barely even touching her food.

She felt drained, but it was a good sort of exhaustion. Never in her life had she had a day as busy as this one. Although most of the time she had submitted herself to Alice's whims, the day had a sense of purpose, unlike many other dreary days she remembered from her life earlier in the century.

Their drive to Port Angeles was her favorite part of the day. Her mother was never keen on her spending much time outdoors. She could catch a chill, she had always said. She would only admit it to herself, but defying her mother without her knowing felt wonderful. Alice took her to the pier in the small town. It was a cold day, but it was twice as cold so close to the ocean, and twice as windy. Nonetheless, she breathed the salty air and loved every second of it. It was so liberating.

She smiled at the memory now, then shook her head to send it away. She wondered where Jack was, realizing with a pang of guilt she hadn't seen him since breakfast time. Esme told her he was outside, drawing, so she excused herself and left through the glass door. He was easy to spot there, sitting at the far end of the backyard with a new drawing pad in his lap. She smiled at the image he made, sitting there among the growing shadows. She was tempted to throw all decency to the wind and run towards him. She eliminated the idea just as fast though. She hadn't been alone with him since they had found themselves here, and acting childishly did not quite fit the atmosphere she had sought.

He looked up only when she was a few steps away from him, and smiled at her, lowering the pad. "There you are. I was looking for you."

"I spent the morning with Alice and then she took me for a drive. She can't be stopped." She laughed softly, then thought better of it as she looked up at him anxiously, her previous guilt resurfacing. "I hope you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind. Did you have a good time?"

She chuckled. What an understatement. "I had an amazing time. Oh, Jack," she said, suddenly breathless. "There _so much_ out there. I had no idea."

He only smiled, but he didn't have to say anything, really. He had been trying to tell her that all along. There was so much she had been missing.

Her eyes fell on his drawing then, a perfect depiction of the lake at the far distance. The city of Forks seemed to be constantly overcast and so sunset wasn't as impressive as it could have been given the view, but he had still managed to capture the magic of the place. It had that eternal quality she couldn't put her finger on. "Has Esme brought you these?"

He nodded. "And she promised to take me to a gallery in Seattle tomorrow."

She felt like laughing. The possibilities were endless here, for both of them.

But it only fortified her dilemma.

"Have you and Carlisle made any progress? You know, with the book?"

"Umm, no, not really," he replied, looking somewhat sheepish. "We... I guess you could say we digressed."

"Jack, you're blushing," she laughed. "What is it?"

"Well, we used the internet to try and find information about time travelling. It's something that's operated through a computer where you could have access to absolutely everything and everywhere in the world. It's incredible." He must have seen incomprehension all across her expression because he shook his head. "Anyway, long story short, Esme walked in with some tea and started telling Carlisle about that quick portrait of hers I'd done during breakfast." He paused, looking sheepish once more. "The next thing I knew, we were searching for art schools on the internet."

It amused her that he seemed somewhat guilty about it. Then she realized what it must mean. She cleared her throat, unsure how to approach her next inquiry; partly because she thought she could guess what his answer would be. "So what are you saying, do you _want_ to stay here?"

"Don't you?" He countered, staring at her intently. "With everything we've seen so far, which I am told is the tip of the iceberg, if you'll excuse the pun, how could we possibly want to go back?"

She didn't reply. She couldn't. She hadn't expected to get so attached to this place so soon, but somehow, it happened, and now she didn't know how she could bare to leave all that behind when the time came. She was so absorbed in trying to imagine it and so when he touched her hands, she started.

"Think about it, Rose. You could be anything here. You could do everything. You could study, we could do all the things I told you about a few days ago; we could do so much more." Their proximity had dawned on her only then. His warm breath tickled her neck; his eyes never left hers, burning intently. It was impossible to look away. "We wouldn't have to hide from anyone, Rose. You would never have to marry someone against your will."

He was sitting so close; if she wanted to, she could kiss him. And as though he knew what she was thinking, he laughed softly. She took it as encouragement.

It was a different kiss than the one they shared on the Titanic, filled with hesitation as though she feared he had time to reconsider things and change his mind. He was kissing her back, though, and she heard his pencil dropping onto the ground when his hand came cupping her cheek, holding her to him. In a rare moment of valor she deepened the kiss, something she would never have dared to do at the time they had come from. It was as though fireworks exploded in her head as passion, raw and unfamiliar, unleashed through her. It was difficult to remember they were still at the backyard of their hosts', easier to drift and pretend they were far away, and yearn for more.

"There," he rasped when the mutual need for air drew them apart eventually. "Can you imagine doing that under your mother's roof?"

She laughed. She couldn't help it. The very notion was preposterous.

"Just think about it, Rose. We don't have to decide right away. But I have a feeling that the more we see of this world, the more tempting it will be. I don't know an awful lot about you, but from the little I do know, I find it hard to believe you don't feel the same way."

"You're not wrong," she admitted and he nodded as though her confession came as no surprise to him. "I do want to stay. This place is a wonderland. But Jack, what if by staying here, we're preventing Edward and Bella's return? What if they do want to come back, but cannot?"

"Well, we don't know for sure they've taken our place. We don't know for sure they've survived the sinking. They're not in the records."

"You found records?" This was news to her. To her surprise, her heart was beating irregularly with sudden anxiety. Had her mother made it into the survivors' list? Had Cal?

"Yes, while searching the internet this morning."

"Is…"

"Your mother was on the list. So was Molly Brown. And Cal," he added, his face twisted in disgust.

"He must have bribed his way into a lifeboat," she said, too dizzy with relief at the news of her mother's survival to care.

"Our names were not on the list, nor were Edward and Bella's names, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything."

For the longest moment, she said nothing. They sat there in silence, listening as nighttime slowly wrapped around them. Her thoughts drifted to the very first time they met, when she thought jumping off board would take all the pain away. And then he came along, somehow talking her out of that idea. She remembered he was willing to jump into the ocean with her, even though they knew each other for the briefest moment. The days they had spend together later were the happiest in her life. Did she really want to go back there, to the dreary routine, to her mother's commands, to Cal? After everything she had seen and done, could she really be that girl again?

"Do you want to stay here?" Her question was no more than a whisper in the chilly night.

"You know me. I get by practically everywhere."

"But do you _want_ to stay here?" she insisted. She wanted a straight answer. She had to make sure he knew what he had wanted too.

"I see it as a missed opportunity if we don't," he confessed. "Don't you think?"

Slowly, she nodded. It was exactly what she thought.

"So what do you say? Do you want to give it a shot?"

Her head was reeling. She felt excited and elated and absolutely terrified, all at the same time. It felt as though she was about to do something forbidden, yet so thrilling it was irresistible. There was no other choice, really. It had to be done. "If you jump, I jump, right?"

For a moment, he seemed speechless. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Right."

"We're staying," she whispered, as though it wasn't clear enough. Then she laughed at her own reaction. "We're staying," she said again, with more confidence. And with confidence growing still, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for another kiss, one which had assured her of everything she had already known. She could do anything, be anything, as long as he was beside her.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

It was strange to be left alone in someone else's house. Granted, she wasn't completely alone; Alice was in her studio sewing. But the other Cullen siblings were still away, Carlisle was at work and Esme was on her way to town with Jack. They were going to visit the gallery Jack had told her about the previous night and asked her to join them, but she declined. She felt strangely exhausted and didn't feel like going on a long drive. Part of her regretted the decision – who knew how many other things of this newly discovered world she was missing out on by staying behind – but as far as she was concerned, there were still bigger mysteries to unravel.

The house was eerily quiet, apart from low sounds of music that were coming from Alice's studio. She had never heard that kind of music before. She couldn't decide if she liked it or not; it was mostly strange to her unpracticed ear. She wandered aimlessly around the second and the third floors, careful not to invade anyone's privacy. Alice had shown her where her siblings' rooms were. She didn't really elaborate while speaking about them, only mentioned they were three boys and two girls in total. She smiled to herself as she made her way downstairs. It would be interesting to see the Cullen clan in its entirety.

She spent a short while staring at the television set. Carlisle showed her and Jack how to switch it on and off and how to flip through channels using the remote control. She followed his instructions easily enough, but couldn't bring herself to stay focused on one channel. Everything fascinated her, be it a random cooking show or a silly music video. Soon she turned it off, feeling overwhelmed. She decided to go into Carlisle's den instead. She knew this was where he and Jack were working on Bella's book the previous day and he said she was welcome to borrow any book she had wanted from his library. She didn't know what she was hoping find that they hadn't been able to, but she figured it wouldn't hurt to try.

Stepping into the den was like stepping into a different world, one which was closer to the world she knew. It reminded her so much of the library they had at home in Philadelphia, the one her father used to frequent. Tears welled up in her eyes and her throat tightened at the thought of him. She had always been closer to him than to her mother. She had missed him so much. She thought of Charlie, Bella's father, and his distress as he had found out of his daughter's disappearance. For a moment, she wondered what her own father would have done under similar circumstances; probably sending every constable on duty to seek for her. He would have stood at the head of the searching party, refusing to rest until she had been found.

He would have loved Jack; she knew he would. He had never cared for classes, not the same way her mother had always done. She had always been obsessed with it, the need to tie oneself to a wealthy family where more fortune could be made. Her father was quite down to earth. Wealth had never stirred any interest in him, not in the same way good books or plays had done. If he were still alive, she wouldn't have been forced to marry Cal. He would have approved of Jack, and he would have given her his blessing for their reunion.

He would have wanted her to stay here, in this century.

She shook her head, composing herself. It was not the time to become emotional. She wanted answers. She didn't know if she had the power to obtain them, but she was determined to at least try.

She stood in the center of the room, taking in the sight that surrounded her from all sides. Shelves upon shelves were completely filled with books of all shapes, sizes and colors. Carlisle was quite the collector, she thought. First editions and suchlike antiques existed side by side with modern-looking books and knickknacks. It was extraordinary. Walking towards one of the shelves at random, she brushed her finger along the spines of the books. She shivered. Books had always had such affect on her, and Carlisle's collection left her in complete awe. Not even her father's library had been this impressive.

There was a massive desk made of dark oak in one end of the room, on top of which an enormous reading lamp was set. Bella's book rested in the middle of the desk, looking too small and mundane for such a grand space. She picked it up and crossed the room, heading towards one of two flush armchairs. Its color was faded scarlet and it, too, reminded her of home. It even smelt old, but not in a bad way. She folded her feet beneath her as she leaned back and pulled the book onto her lap.

Her fingers traced the front page where the book's publishing details were listed. She couldn't help but smile as she thought of the first time they noticed it. Was it really possible only a few days had passed? So much had happened since then. She flipped through the pages until she found the one she had been looking for, the page that got them there. She read the lines twice, first silently, then out loud, but still she couldn't figure out how they could possibly transcend time and place. She had always believed words had power, but were they capable of doing something like that?

They might never know the answer.

It suddenly dawned on her that she had never actually finished reading the book. She was only halfway through it when it all happened. It turned out its author had become one of the most well-known of her time. Six of her novels had been published, Esme told her, as well as some correspondence with her sister. She was certain Carlisle must have had it all in his extensive library. Hesitantly, she flipped through the pages until she reached the place in which she had stopped. Then, telling herself she would only stay there for a little while, she resumed her reading.

xoxox

Although she knew she was wide awake, she didn't open her eyes just yet. The silence wasn't complete, but she reveled at it nonetheless, knowing it would soon disperse. She guessed it was still quite early. She could hear the rain pounding against the body of the ship. The short voyage on board of the Carpathia was filled with all sorts of extreme weather, from fog to ice warnings, and now the rain. Her stomach flipped at the memory of the ship making its way through the storm in the middle of the night. She couldn't wait to dock in New York.

But despite her anticipation to get there and witness life in a city she had never been to before in a period she didn't even dream she would experience firsthand, she also dreaded it. The future seemed filled with uncertainties, more so than ever before. They would have to get by somehow, probably with Molly Brown's help at first, but then they would be on their own, trying to make their way back home, to the future. As of right now, she had absolutely no idea how they were going to do so.

The cot shifted ever so slightly as an arm wrapped tighter around her. "You're thinking about it again," he murmured into her ear.

She smiled, opening her eyes. As she suspected, darkness still wrapped around the room; everyone else seemed to be sleeping. Edward didn't object when she snuggled against him without replying to his comment. For the second night in a row, he was pretending to be sleeping beside her, sharing her cot. People did seem to find it unacceptable; she saw the disapproving way in which they had eyed them, but the truth was she didn't care. She drew comfort from his nearness. He was the only constant thing in all the chaos around her.

"Sorry. I can't help it," she said, glancing at him from over her shoulder. His eyes were glimmering in the semi-darkness.

"It's going to be fine. I promise. The ship is due in New York tonight and then once we're there, we'll start thinking of ways to get out of here."

"My dad must be so worried." That was the main thing that bothered her about everything that had happened. As much as she loved spending all this time alone with Edward, her father was constantly on her mind, as well as her promise to him to keep out of trouble. Things between them were so fragile ever since she had returned from Italy. She hoped her current absence wouldn't be the final straw for him. Honestly, she didn't know what she would do if he decided to send her off to Renée in Jacksonville.

"I'm sure Carlisle has spoken to Charlie by now. They won't leave him hanging. I just wish we could contact them in any way."

"I wonder if Alice can still see our futures."

"I don't know."

She turned to face him. He smiled at her, but it never reached his eyes. There was anxiety of sorts reflecting in his stare. The change in his expression made her more aware of the bruise-like stains beneath his eyes. She reached out and traced one with her finger. "You're thirsty," she whispered.

It wasn't a question. He nodded somberly. "I've got it under control."

"It must be uncomfortable, though," she said, letting her finger linger. "Where will you find prey in 1912 New York?"

"We might have to get out of town."

His reply entailed a whole new series of concerns, because she had no idea how they were supposed to do so. She didn't know much about the period they had found themselves in, but she was pretty sure they wouldn't be able to rely on any sort of public transportation, apart for trains, perhaps. Hitchhiking would be too out of place as well. What would they do, get a horse and ride their way out of town? She didn't even know how to ride, despite her mother's attempts to teach her, once. Did Edward know how to ride? And even if he did in his childhood, could he ride now, in his new existence?

The cool touch shook her out of her reverie instantly. She blinked and found him staring at her questionably. She smiled sheepishly, wordlessly admitting she was thinking about it yet again. Gently, he removed her finger from his face and laced their fingers together. He brought her hand closer to his lips and pressed a kiss to her ring. "I don't want you to worry about it, about any of it. Why don't you go back to sleep? It's still quite early."

"No use. I'm wide awake now."

"Here; lay back down," he murmured, adjusting their position so she would lay with her back against his chest again. "There. This is better. Now, shall we talk about something else?"

"What would that something be, oh Master of Distractions?"

"Tell me what would be the first thing you'd do in New York."

"That's easy, actually. Shower and change. I can't wait to get rid of this dress." She received another dress from one of the passengers, but her lavender one had fit her much better and so she stuck with it. After wearing it for several days in a row, though, she could feel it was getting filthy. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

"For what it's worth, I quite like you in this dress." There was a smile in his voice. "I think you shouldn't underestimate it."

"I'm not. I'm just saying I could use a proper shower and the dress could use a proper wash. I don't mind wearing it again as long as it's clean. I'll miss it when we're gone."

Behind her, he sighed and placed his chin in the crook of her neck. "It's like you belong in this century." There was certain admiration in the way he had said it.

"I belong with you," she whispered into the darkness. His lips pressed into her hair with wordless agreement.

"It's going to be alright," he said then. "We'll be in New York tomorrow, and you can clean up and eat and sleep properly, in a warm bed. I know this whole situation is a lot to take, but we just need to keep up the act for a little longer. As soon as we dock, you can throw that ring into the ocean, for all I care."

"Into the ocean?" she echoed, her eyes widening in mock-disbelief as she turned to face him again. "Edward, I may be apprehensive towards the notion of marriage, but I'm not stupid. Do you know how much it must have cost whoever purchased it?"

But just as quickly, her playful mood darkened. More than anything, she wished the ring could somehow buy their way home.

xoxox

She pressed the book to her chest and sighed with exasperation. Cruel, cruel authoress! How could she put poor Marianne through all that heartache? And now she was laying on her deathbed, ill and heartbroken, and who knew if she would ever recover again. And Elinor! Had no one in Jane Austen's world deserved a happy ending? They had so very little to begin with; couldn't she give them that, at the very least?

She had become so engrossed in the Dashwood sisters' ordeal that she didn't hear the door creaking open, or the sound of footsteps. It was only when someone cleared his throat over her shoulder that she gasped, startled. The book fell from her grasp as she turned to face her intruder.

"Sorry," said Carlisle, smiling softly at her. He looked twice as attractive while smiling. She sent the thought away, blushing.

"It's alright," she said hurriedly, retrieving the book from the floor.

"What are you doing?" He asked, sitting across from her on a second plush armchair. He was still dressed in a suit, so she assumed he had just returned from work. It also meant it was later than she thought. Jack and Esme would be back soon, as well.

"I was looking at Bella's book again, and I suppose I got carried away," she smiled somewhat guiltily. "I've never had a chance to finish it," she said as though it was some sort of an excuse as for why she wasn't working as she had initially intended to.

Carlisle nodded as though he understood. "Bella is very fond of this book."

"I can see why she feels this way," she replied. She couldn't help but wonder if he would still be as chivalrous towards her if he knew she and Jack were set upon staying. Trying to guess his reaction made her feel anxious. And yet, despite her growing distraction, she felt obliged to question him in the matter. "Do you think they will find their way back?"

"I want to believe that they will," he said, but the words were followed by a grave sigh. "Sadly I don't see how we could help them back, or you, for that matter. That is, if you want to return."

She paled, her anxiety intensifying. Did he know anything? She tried to read his face, but found herself unable to. Beyond his obvious sadness, his expression was blank. Was he mad? Was he going to reproach her or worse, persuade her to change her mind? Was she strong enough to hold her own against any form of resentment on his side?

"Has Jack said anything to you?" she found herself asking although she had meant to ask something else entirely. She struggled not to let her distress show, although it was growing so rapidly she was sure it was quite obvious.

Carlisle shook his head, smiling a little as though he knew exactly what was bothering her. "No, but it's easy to guess. I think I would have preferred to stay as well if I were given a choice."

His reaction had calmed her somewhat, but doubt still lingered. "Edward and Bella might never come home if we stayed," she pointed out.

"I'm not sure it works this way. We can't know for certain."

"What do you think happened?"

"I can't explain what happened, Rose. I doubt anyone can. I've never witnessed anything like this before. In a way, it reminds me the way wishing works."

"But we didn't wish to come here."

"As I'm sure Edward and Bella have never wished to end up on board of a sinking ship. I'm guessing the books served as mediums of sorts, and somehow your ways crossed paths. Perhaps you've come here to learn something about yourselves." He smiled gently. "You've decided to stay, so perhaps you shouldn't ponder about the past and start considering the future."

But she had barely had a chance to consider it when the door burst open and Alice – she didn't even hear her approaching footsteps – stormed into the room.

"_Carlisle_! You're not going to believe this – I just saw – "

Their eyes met, and she was suddenly silent. The urgency in her eyes turned into hesitation. The pleading look she had flashed her father didn't escape her.

"Go on, Alice, what is it you saw?"

"Bella," she said, looking awe struck. "Her entire future has just changed course."

xoxox

The Statue of Liberty welcomed them to the port, towering out of the darkness. She gawked at it from underneath their current sanctuary, a small roof on deck. All around them, rain was pounding mercilessly, keeping many of the passengers inside the ship. Edward was standing behind her, his arms circling her waist, holding her to his chest protectively. She was adamant about going outside and he relented despite his obvious reluctance to do so. She knew he had preferred to keep her inside, where it was warm and dry, but she just couldn't let the opportunity pass.

She was absolutely freezing and completely wet despite the small roof over their heads, but she couldn't bring herself to regret her decision. She was awe struck by the magnificent statue. She had never seen it before, nor had she imagined she would. "She's so…" she started, but soon faltered. No adjective was forceful enough to describe Lady Liberty's imposing facade.

"I know," said Edward, and his arms tightened ever so slightly. She felt her way along his arm until her hand found one of his. As she slowly interlaced their fingers, his index finger brushed against her ring, and she sighed as the last few days flashed through her mind.

All her life she had treated the issue of marriage with utmost resentment. It was almost a given in her case, with the way her parents' marriage had ended. So when Edward proposed to her following their confrontation with the Volturi a few weeks back, she couldn't take him seriously. Of course she had resented the idea, let alone the notion of being married at eighteen.

But then they found themselves here, in a different age, where different rules applied. Here, it wouldn't have been strange if she had accepted his proposal. Here she would have been looked upon as one of many. Their pretended engagement had saved them here, in a way. And if she was honest with herself, she _liked_ being engaged to him, even if it was all make-believe. There was certain comfort in knowing she was bound to him in a more official way than just sweet words and endless promises.

In a day or two, the survivors would all head back to their homes and shelters, and the game would be over. She was surprised at the pang of disappointment the thought enhanced.

But it didn't have to be over. The offer was still there, lingering in each of his gestures, in the way he spoke to her or held her or looked into her eyes. He would marry her today if she had only so wished. He would put a real ring on her finger. All she had to do was say the words. It wouldn't be that different than pretending to be engaged to him, would it? It couldn't possibly be bad. If their fake engagement made her heart lift, she could only imagine the feelings a real one would stir.

Perhaps there lay her answer, then. Perhaps in her heart of hearts she had wanted it all along; she just needed a little help figuring it out. Perhaps, like Dorothy, once realization set in, she would find out the whole trip had only happened in her head, that she was still in Kansas… or somewhere else quite close.

She couldn't know for sure, but she thought she could try.

She turned her back on the Statue of Liberty, seeing only him as she turned in his arms. She smiled at him. It seemed so clear now, as though it had been her answer all along. He returned her smile, but seemed unaware of the turmoil of emotion that made her head spin. She steeled herself, and spoke.

"It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy; it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others."

Edward laughed softly. "Saying it again won't bring us back," he said.

"I know," she replied. "I was making a point." Her voice was trembling; she wondered if he could hear it. She wondered how he could possibly remain oblivious to what she was about to do. Surely he could feel the way her heart was racing. A nervous laugh escaped her. She hoped she wasn't going to make a complete fool out of herself. "Your inability to read my mind is downright frustrating sometimes," she said, then locked her gaze with his. She was trying to imitate his own penetrating gaze, but failing miserably.

"Ask me again," she pleaded in a whisper.

"What?" he asked, looking genuinely puzzled. If she wasn't so distracted, she would have teased him endlessly about it.

"You asked me something a few days ago, right before we got here. I want you to ask me again."

At that, he tensed, and she knew he had figured out where she was getting at. He stared at her in shock. "Do you mean…" His voice trailed as she slowly nodded. "Are you serious?"

She smiled innocently and inched closer. "Why don't you ask me again and find out?"

He didn't speak, not right away; he just kept looking at her, as though expecting her to laugh it off. She held his gaze though, and what he had found in her eyes must have given him strength, because a moment later, he unwound his arms from around her waist, and took her hands in his.

"Isabella Swan," he whispered, and there was certain urgency in the way he had uttered her name. "I promise to love you every single day of forever." She thought his voice shook, but she wasn't sure. She held her breath against the words he had not yet spoken, but was bound to, in just a moment. "Will you marry me?"

And although she knew they were coming, and had prepared herself to hear them, she was not ready for the overwhelming sensation that swept upon her as the words were said. As she looked up at him and caught sight of his anxious expression, the worry in his dark eyes lest she would fail him again, she realized she had never had another choice, she did not _want_ to have another choice. There was no other way.

She was dizzy with emotion, but she couldn't fall apart now. She felt a smile slowly curling on her lips, making its way into her eyes as well. "Yes," she whispered, laughing softly. "Yes, I will."

And as they kissed, she pretended to feel the floor slip from underneath her feet. At first she thought he had lifted her above the ground, but the dizzying darkness was oddly familiar, becoming more absolute as seconds ticked by. She pressed herself closer to him, never letting go as she had promised. She didn't know if they were falling or soaring, but one thing couldn't have been clearer.

They were going home.


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: I know it might come as a surprise, but I've never intended for this story to become a monterous 30-chapters-epic kind of thing. And so you guessed it - this is the last chapter. There's still an epilogue which I hope to be able to post in a few days. In the meantime, I want to thank all of you who've been reading and reviewing (or lurking), and I hope you will enjoy this final chapter as well. I started working on a new Twilight story, but it may be a while before it is finally posted with life coming in the way - just follow these alerts, I promise it will be worth the wait!**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

She knew where she was even before she opened her eyes, before she moved her arms and legs to make sure she wasn't hurt or injured anywhere. And then her eyes fluttered open and sure enough, she was right. The meadow wrapped around them, comforting and familiar in its brightness. Edward sat up and she mirrored the motion, still somewhat dizzy, and staring around her in disbelief.

"We're home," she said, barely able to believe it. How was it possible they were home, just like that? Only moments ago their future seemed uncertain, their return unlikely, and now… "How did we do it?"

"I think... _you_ did it," he replied.

She was becoming fond of this new, puzzled Edward, who didn't know everything or figured things out faster than she would ever be able to. It made him appear more... human, in a way. She smiled at the thought, but couldn't help questioning his words. "_Me_? How could _I_ bring us back?"

She had never seen him smiling so broadly before. "You said yes." His smile got impossibly wider after the words were said. It was blinding. There was wonder in his eyes as he stared at her. "Bella, you said yes."

"I thought you wanted me to," she whispered, suddenly shy against his awe.

"I did. I do. More than anything. But I've never expected..." Something clouded his blissful expression. He took her hand, looking at her intently. "This isn't why you're doing this, is it? Not because I want to? Because it was never my intention, forcing you into something you're not – "

"Shh..." she murmured, placing a finger against his icy lips. "I said I'd marry you because _I_ want to, because I realized I liked being engaged to you, because this is how I would get to keep you forever, but mainly because there's no other way, I think." She laughed softly, suddenly self conscious. She wasn't used to making speeches. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she would make a speech such as this one. "This is how it should be and we shouldn't fight it."

He was quiet for a long time, which scared her. Was he having second thoughts? It couldn't be the case. He was so keen on getting her to agree before. But still, doubt sipped in and lingered there, distracting her. What if he _had_ changed his mind and she had just made a complete fool out of herself?

He reached for her hand and she let him have it, absentmindedly. She was too tormented by uncertainties to care. He brushed his fingers against her palm. When he smiled at her, she sensed there was something obvious she was missing. She blinked, forcing her mind back on track. "The ring," he told her. "It's gone."

She gasped and looked at her hand. Indeed, her fake engagement ring was no longer on her finger. But how could it be gone, just like that? Unless... "Do you think it stayed behind?"

"I think it's possible."

"Too bad," she shrugged, then grinned at him. "It was slowly growing on me."

"Oh, was it, really?"

"Yes," she replied, and flashed a broader smile at him.

"I'll never get tired of hearing you say this word," he said, and leaned over to capture her lips with his. She was the one breaking the kiss first, which earned her a husky chuckle from him. She didn't stop to tease him back though; there were more urgent things on her mind.

"Do you really think this is what brought us back? Me saying yes?"

"I'm beginning to think that the reason we went in the first place had to do with your resentment. I think we were meant to learn something." He flashed a crooked smile at her. "_Have_ you learned something?"

"Only one thing I think I already knew," she said, returning his smile. She took him completely by surprise as she threw her arms around him, knocking him over on the grass with her on top. Then she leaned down until her lips were right next to his ear. "I'm never letting you go."

"Sounds like a good plan to me," he nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He pressed another kiss to her waiting lips, but pulled away shortly afterwards. "How about we go home, though? Your father will be glad to see you, and to be honest, your finger looks a little bare without a ring."

He looked downright amused now. She cocked an eyebrow. "You say it as if you already have one to replace it."

"I do," he said, not missing a beat. He paused as though he was sure the words would scare her.

A moment or so later she smiled, batting her lashes dramatically. "I guess I brought it on myself, huh?" She stood up and pulled at his hand, helping him up as well. "Get us home then," she said, but wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer.

"As you wish, Miss Swan."

"What, not Mrs. Cullen?" she pouted. He burst out laughing, a sound so rare to her ears that it made her laugh as well. Soon afterwards he hoisted her on his back, and she held on to his neck as he raced through the forest, homebound.

xoxox

Esme and Jack returned shortly after Alice had barged into Carlisle's den with her surprising news. They were all sitting in the living room for about an hour or so now, waiting in tense silence.

"Are you sure this is what you saw?" Esme asked Alice for the third time.

"Yes. I thought it meant they were close, but I might have been wrong." Alice frowned. She seemed frustrated, as though she was not used to being wrong.

She had accepted Alice's ability to predict the future with calmness that surprised even herself. Perhaps this was another unknown attribute of the future. Some people could just do that, she supposed. Neither Carlisle nor Esme seemed surprised by Alice's words. They didn't doubt her conviction for a moment. They seemed to trust her implicitly. She must have been reliable.

"They're safe. That's the most important thing," said Carlisle. He seemed relieved.

"Shall we notify Charlie?"

"Only when Bella arrives. I don't want to alarm him for no reason. The best thing to do is just wait."

Jack, who was sitting next to her, was squeezing her hand. She smiled to herself, proud of her ability to hold back her blush. It was quite normal to do this in this world, she reminded herself. If they were about to stay here, they better practice its ways.

Knowing that Edward and Bella had somehow made their way back was an enormous relief. More than anything, it meant that she and Jack didn't have to go back in order for them to return. She couldn't even begin to imagine how it was possible, but she thought it best not to dwell on it. There was no point. Carlisle was right. She would better focus on the future.

"Is anyone hungry?" asked Esme. It was another thing she had found strange here. The Cullens seemed like a wholesome, united family, and yet they had never had dinners together. Somehow they had always missed one another, held back by their various engagements and occupations. At some point it just stopped bothering her altogether, but it didn't surprise her when no one wanted anything now.

"How much longer will we have to wait?" asked Alice, sighing with exasperation.

She had to admit she agreed. She was just as eager for Edward and Bella's return as anyone else in the room, curious to meet the couple she had heard so much about. Esme seemed equally anxious. Carlisle shook his head. _Patience_, his eyes said. She felt almost compelled to contain her excitement.

The television was on and as she had done only that morning, she found herself staring at it again, absentmindedly listening to Jack and Carlisle's conversation. The flickering images on the screen made her dizzier with each passing moment, and the dizziness lingered even as she looked away. It was warm in the room. It was so easy to just lean back, close her eyes and drift. Impolite, for sure, but so very easy, and so tempting –

"They're here!" Alice exclaimed and was at the door before she could blink. They could all hear her excited babble as she welcomed her brother and friend by the door. Their replies were not as loud. She and Jack exchanged one look, then laughed softly at the same time. His eyes reflected the same giddy excitement she could feel fizzing within her. Her impatience was getting more potent by the second, and she struggled to contain it. There wasn't much to do at this point, but wait.

xoxox

They were home for barely two minutes and she was already dizzy. Alice was unrelenting, squeezing each of them in turn, all the while talking non-stop about how worried they had been and how happy they all were they were back safely. If it wasn't for Edward's arm, which was somehow still wrapped around her, her legs would have given way ages ago. Alice was clearly making efforts to confirm her vision regarding their engagement, but Edward managed to intercept each and every attempt. She squeezed his waist gratefully. She was too exhausted to handle Alice's enquiries in the matter at the moment.

"Come in, come in, you wouldn't _believe_ what happened while you were gone!" Alice's excited prattle was finally cut off as she took in a huge breath. She and Edward exchanged the briefest of looks and it was obvious he could already tell what had happened during their absence. She didn't get a chance to ask though. Alice pulled her out of Edward's grip and towed her into the living room.

"Look who's back, everyone!" she chirped.

Carlisle and Esme were by their side in a moment, the looks of concern quickly transforming into much calmer expressions. Esme hugged her. "Thank God you're safe," she whispered, petting her hair. She pulled away gently and put her arms around Edward. "Thank God you're both safe."

"Alright, Bella?" Carlisle asked her, eyeing her with concern before he hugged her as well.

"Yes, fine," she replied, grinning, but it froze on her lips when something over his shoulder caught her attention. There were two strangers in the room. They were definitely human, a young man and woman who looked about her age and were eyeing her curiously. She pulled away from Carlisle slowly, without taking her eyes off them.

As though sensing her sudden hesitation, he cleared his throat. "Edward, Bella, these are Jack and Rose," he said. "Alice found them in your meadow after you disappeared."

"Imagine my surprise!" Alice cut in, giggling excitedly. Then she turned to face Jack and Rose. "I told you they would be just fine!"

Rose, whose hand was clutching Jack's, slowly let go of his hand and walked towards her. Her expression was strange, as though she had somehow recognized her. But then she realized it wasn't exactly the case. "You're wearing my dress," Rose told her, her clear blue eyes wide with awe.

"It must be your stateroom we have found ourselves in," Edward told her, "which makes sense since you found yourselves in our place."

"It doesn't make sense," she countered, looking from Edward to Carlisle. "We made it back. Shouldn't it mean that they must go back too?"

"Apparently it doesn't work that way," replied Carlisle. She had missed his calm, collected tone, she now realized. "While the four of you time travelled at the exact same moment, it doesn't seem to work the same way in reverse. Besides, Rose and Jack decided to stay here, in this time."

She had so many questions, too many to be answered in one night. They were absent for only several days, but it felt as though so much had happened ever since. It was overwhelming. She swayed ever so slightly; Edward eyed her with concern. Esme, who had also noticed, shook her head in dismay. "Come sit down, Bella," she said and gently led her towards the sofa. Edward followed close behind them.

From the corner of her eye she saw Alice, still bouncing in place, waiting anxiously for their announcement. It was very distracting. Blush rushed into her cheeks. It was all so new. She wasn't ready to tell anyone yet, and she knew Edward had shared her sentiments. Alice clearly knew what was going on, but she wouldn't just tell everyone something like that without asking for their permission first, would she?

"Alice, why don't you go and call Charlie? I'm sure he'll be glad to know Bella is back safely," said Edward, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly in his sister's direction. She glared back, clearly displeased, but did as she was told. Only after Alice left the room, she allowed herself to breathe again.

She didn't realize how much she had missed the spacious living room until she looked around her. She leaned back on the sofa with a weary sigh, feeling at home, at last. Edward took her hand in his as soon as he sat next to her, drawing icy patterns on the back of her hand. Carlisle and Esme sat across from them, and Jack and Rose occupied the smaller sofa next to them. She didn't spot Emmett, Rosalie and Jasper anywhere; she figured they probably chose to keep away so long as there were humans living in the house.

"Your father was so worried about you," said Esme. Concern still lingered in her stare.

"I know. I was worried about him, too."

"We're here now," replied Edward, squeezing her hand as though he could sense the guilt that Esme's words had stirred in her. "It's alright."

"Mission accomplished!" said Alice as she breezed back into the room. She came to sit on the armrest of the sofa by Edward's side, crossing one leg over the other. "Charlie is on his way."

She smiled at her friend, realizing she had been holding her breath until these words were spoken. "Thanks, Alice."

"No worries," said Alice, waving her hand dismissively. "What are we talking about?"

"I was just about to ask about Jack and Rose's clothes," said Edward, probably in order to save them from Alice's attempt to expose their secret. "You had something to do with it, of course."

"Sure did," replied Alice, beaming. "They look great, don't they?"

"It's quite a change from 1912," she laughed, looking down at the dress she was still wearing. Even in a size too big, it was still confining, much less comfortable than any top or jeans she would have otherwise chosen.

"I must say I don't think I've ever seen you dressed like a proper girl before, Bella. Well, apart for the time I dressed you up for prom. She looked so pretty that night," she said as an aside to Jack and Rose before bringing her attention back to her. "I have to say I'm impressed. You've done this all by yourself."

"I'm sure there was a compliment in there somewhere," she said, rolling her eyes.

"_Of course_ it's a compliment, silly! I just meant to say how proud I am of you!"

"You _should_ be proud of her; she's done amazingly well, under the circumstances." For a moment there was no one else in the room except for Edward and her and the smile that passed between them.

"Was it frightening?" asked Rose, shaking her out of her reverie. "When you figured out where you were?" She had big blue eyes and they were burning now, as though with curiosity. It was strange to think she was the real owner of the pretty dress that had impressed Alice so much. She had come to think of that dress as her own.

"Frightening and intriguing and incredible, somehow all at the same time," she laughed softly. From the corner of her eye she saw Edward nod in agreement. There was no other way to describe the past few days, really.

"I think we know exactly how that feels," said Jack. He had a nice smile, she decided. He radiated with youth, but there was something in his gaze that made him seem older, wiser, as though in his young age he had already been familiar with the ways of the world.

"It's awful, isn't it? Being thrown into a time and culture you're not familiar with?" asked Edward.

Rose nodded, blushing ever so slightly when her eyes met Edward's. "It's more disorienting than anything else," she replied. "I think I'm still dizzy."

"It's a lot to get used to," she agreed. She barely knew Jack and Rose, but she felt herself warming up to them quickly. They seemed to be adjusting remarkably well to the new life they had stumbled upon merely days before. "So what are you going to do now that you've decided to stay here?"

"I think we'll just take it one day at the time," said Jack. Rose nodded, smiling shyly at him.

"Jack is quite the artist," said Esme. "We tried to talk him into applying into art school."

"There wasn't that much convincing involved," said Jack, looking sheepish all of a sudden. He seemed uncomfortable being in the center of attention. It was something she could definitely relate to. "I'll do it eventually for sure; I just think we both need a taste of this world first or it swallows us whole."

"That's probably a wise move," said Edward. He seemed to like them, too. "Do you know how long you will stay here?"

"Hopefully we will be on our way in a day or two," replied Rose. "We've caused your family so much trouble already; we wouldn't want to be a burden for much longer."

"Nonsense, darling, it's the least we could do for you," Esme hushed her. "You're welcome to stay for as long as you like."

They fell into an easy conversation then. Rose wanted to know more about the Titanic, and asked them about one person after another. She and Jack were not so surprised to hear they had met and befriended Molly Brown. At some point it dawned on her that Rose was the young woman Molly had told her about, the one that woman in the lifeboat kept calling and calling for. Rose seemed relieved to learn firsthand that her mother was alright.

A half an hour or so later, Edward squeezed her hand ever so slightly, a subtle motion which had gone amiss by everyone else in the room. Before she had a chance to question it, the doorbell rang. Carlisle excused himself and went to get the door. She sat a little straighter, suddenly tense, and gently pulled her hand out of Edward's. If Charlie was mad at her, she didn't want to give him any more reasons to be even madder. Edward, who seemed to understand what she was trying to do, shifted slightly, putting more distance between the two of them. Alice, who was sitting close enough to notice this change of position, glared at the two of them with dismay.

She heard their voices from their place by the door, Charlie's muffled question and Carlisle's unintelligible reply. She didn't even try to decipher it. She was too busy getting her soaring heartbeat under control. She sat there with her hands on her knees to keep them from shaking, struggling to appear attentive to Esme who was speaking softly to her. She was trying to guess what her father's response would be. The seconds stretched, but finally their footsteps sounded closer and they walked into the living room.

xoxox

It was easy to see that Bella's patience was slipping away as soon as the doorbell rang, announcing her father's arrival. She seemed so anxious; she had half expected her to hurry and get the door herself. On the surface, Bella seemed remarkably in control of herself. Only her dark eyes reflected her tumble of emotions. She seemed equally terrified and expectant.

She lost her cool composure as soon as Charlie walked into the room. She bolted out of her seat and crossed the room in three long strides, nearly stumbling over the hem of her dress. She wasn't distracted by it, though; she threw herself into her father's arms with such force that seemed to surprise even him. His expression was sealed when he walked in, as though he was struggling to control his temper. Now it faded entirely as he chuckled and slowly wrapped his arms around his daughter. "Hey, Bells. It's good to see you."

A soft sound escaped Bella, a cross between a laugh and a sob. He held her a little tighter. It reminded her so much of her own father, her father who was no longer. Her throat felt tight and she could feel the tears that slowly accumulated there. Looking away, she caught Jack's eyes. He smiled at her carefully, encouragingly. As always, she found herself drawing strength from his presence.

Charlie slowly pulled away from his daughter as he caught sight of Edward from over her shoulder. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "You."

She turned back to face them, somewhat anxiously. She remembered how Bella's father felt towards Edward, how he thought he had ruined his daughter, how he threatened to kill him. All these sentiments were still present as he glared at Edward, whose own expression seemed grave, as though he knew exactly how Charlie felt.

Merely a second passed, but the tension in the room was so great it felt like much longer. Everyone seemed to be holding their breaths. Bella was still clinging to her father's side. Her fingers were clawing at the hem of his jacket; an attempt to restrain him, it seemed. A wordless plea was reflected in her eyes as she looked up at him.

She forced back a smile at the image they made. Bella seemed willing to do anything in her power to prevent a confrontation, but she looked as frail as she could be in her girly dress while her father looked quite menacing as he was still wearing his uniform. Still, Bella seemed quite stubborn. Surely she would be able to get her way had she so wished.

His eyes still locked on Edward, Charlie shook his head, as though sending his previous thoughts away. A smile broke on his lips almost despite himself. "Good to have you back."

"It's good to be back, Chief Swan," replied Edward. Despite their many differences, he had reminded her of Jack, mostly in his utter devotion. She wondered why Charlie was looking at him as though he had expected him to do something wrong. She couldn't understand how he could possibly harm Bella. She had barely known them, but it was painfully obvious that Edward would give his own life for her. She wondered if Charlie really couldn't see it, or simply didn't want to. He was just overprotective. He was very much like her own father in that sense.

"Can I get you some coffee or anything, Charlie?" asked Esme, clearly trying to distract him, although it seemed Edward was safe for now. There was laughter in his eyes when they met Esme's as though he figured out what she was trying to do.

"No, thank you, Esme, I..." He cleared his throat and looked down at Bella. "I think I'll take my kid home now if that's okay. Looks like she could use some rest."

Bella clearly didn't like the idea, but Edward nodded and crossed the room towards them. "I think that's an excellent idea."

Charlie's eyes widened ever so slightly as though he was expecting resistance. Then he grumbled something unintelligible and wrapped an arm around Bella. While doing so, he suddenly looked up and found them sitting there. "You're still here."

"Yes, sir," said Jack.

"I thought you said you had something to do with the kids'... disappearance. If you're still here, how did they..."

"We sort of found our way back," Bella told him. There was sort of a secret smile passing between her and Edward, to which her father remained oblivious. Her hand fluttered along her neck and wrapped around the string of pearls that rested there. She gasped as though she only just remembered the necklace was there, and looked up anxiously. "Your necklace. I forgot…" Her voice trailed as she blindly reached for the clasp at the back.

"No, don't. Keep it."

"What are you talking about? I can't keep it, it's yours."

"I think I can live very well without them," she said, smiling. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought it would be so easy to part with any of her jewelries. Jack reached for her hand and squeezed it lightly. He of all people would notice the change. "You can keep the dress as well, although I doubt you would wear it again."

"No, no way. I'll wash it and bring it back to you tomorrow."

"Really, it's fine, Bella. I don't need it. I want to give it to you."

"A hand-me-down," Edward told her. There was a hint of a smile on his lips as though he was well familiar with her reluctance to receive gifts. "I thought those were allowable."

Bella frowned; the matter clearly displeased her.

"How about you go home and get some rest, and you two can talk about it in the morning? Jack and Rose are not going anywhere; not tonight, anyway." She seemed to want to protest, but then she looked up at him and her expression softened. She nodded somewhat wearily. "I'll walk you to the car."

Charlie clearly liked that idea, for he gently prodded her side. "Come on, Bells."

There was a round of goodbyes and goodnights after which Bella and her father had gone, followed by Edward. She found herself staring at them as they left the living room. They really did look very much alike, she thought.

"It will be so strange when you're gone," said Alice, bringing her back to the here and now. Her confession was so sincere it made her heart twitch.

"We'll miss you, too," she said and meant it. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jack nod his agreement. "We can stay in touch, though. Once we get a permanent address, we could write to one another."

"We could get you a cell phone and teach you how to use it and then we could text each other, which is faster than post," said Alice, and then shot her father a pleading look. "Carlisle, we must get them a cell phone."

Esme shook her head and smiled somewhat apologetically. She was obviously well familiar with her daughter's erratic nature and illogical whims. "It's something we can talk about tomorrow, Alice, as we can't get a hold on a new cell phone right now anyway."

Alice giggled in what sounded like an apology. She claimed Edward's vacant seat and leaned back in what seemed like an attempt to calm herself, one which hadn't fooled anyone in the room.

Esme's kind smile slowly faded and she looked seriously at Jack and her. "Carlisle and I have discussed it last night. Since you decided to stay here, we want to help you."

"You've already done so much for us," Jack protested and she nodded vigorously for she agreed wholeheartedly. Who knew what would have become of them if it someone else had found them in the meadow, and not Alice.

"You can't just wander around the country like this. It might have worked for you in the beginning of the century," Esme told Jack, "but in this time and age, you won't get very far."

Carlisle nodded. "Let us give you some money and a few clothes for change."

"Think of it as a loan," Esme added hurriedly as though she had sensed their objection. "I can't send you away without knowing I've done all I could for you. Please?"

She looked up at Jack and shrugged. They didn't deserve to just be given money and clothes, but Esme was persistent, and what's more, she was right. They wouldn't get very far on their own. And once they found their way in the world, they would be able to pay them back. She was certain it would happen sooner than later.

Carlisle nodded as though he had guessed her way of thinking. "Don't worry about it," he promised her, smiling reassuringly. "You can take as long as you need."

"You can stay with us for as long as you want, too," Esme said again. "Tomorrow morning we can get you a cell phone," she said, grinning at Alice who looked pleased. "And we can help you plan out a route for your journey."

"That will be wonderful."

"I think I know exactly where you should start," said Edward, who had just joined them. He walked over and sat beside Alice. His sister put a hand on his knee, beaming at him, as though she knew exactly the place he had referred to.

She smiled, feeling new hope. Edward and Bella were safe and at home, she received confirmation about her mother's safety and she couldn't wait to go out into the world and explore it with Jack by her side.

She looked up at him and her smile widened an inch. She saw her own hope reflecting in his eyes as well, and that fact reassured her. She was certain they could make it, and they would. They had each other now for as long as they would want. No one was going to judge or criticize them. From that moment on, nothing in the world would ever come between them.


	8. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

She didn't know what time it was, but it didn't matter. She was home, under the covers in her tiny bedroom. Her father was softly snoring in the next room. She had never felt safer.

She was exhausted, but she couldn't sleep. Her mind was too attentive to the noises outside the house. She was waiting for the soft sound of crunching leaves and branches, and yet knew it was probably in vain. He had never made a sound while sneaking in through her bedroom window.

She knew he would be coming eventually, that he was probably waiting for her to surrender to a much deserved slumber, but there was no chance for that. It was a cold night and she wrapped her blanket tighter around herself, bringing it all the way to her nose. Her eyes were set on her window, alert and waiting.

She must have drifted for a moment because the softest of noises made her jolt awake. Her eyes snapped open instantly, quickly adjusting to the darkness that wrapped so completely around her. Her lips curled instinctively at the sight of a white hand pushing her window aside. A moment later, he slipped gracefully, noiselessly, into her room. His eyes were searching as soon as his feet touched the floor.

"Hi," she whispered, smiling, hoping to soften the reproach she had found in his expression when he realized she was awake.

"You should be asleep," he told her, shaking his head in dismay.

"I wanted to wait for you," she said, sitting up. He didn't reply, as though he knew there was no point arguing with her. She watched him as he removed his shoes and leather jacket. By the time he was walking towards her bed, she could detect a tiny smile curling at the corner of his lips. She pulled her blanket aside and scooted a little to let him in. She smiled timidly as he opened his arms for her. The top of her head fit perfectly into the crook of his neck. She sighed contentedly. He placed his chin on top of her head, inhaling.

"What a day, huh?"

"Indeed."

"Are Jack and Rose okay?"

"Both are sleeping soundly in the guest room. Alice thinks they would leave in a day or two. Emmett, Rosalie and Jasper will be able to return home." He began stroking her back gently, probably hoping to put her to sleep this way. "How was the rest of your evening?"

She looked up, laughing softly. "Eventful." She paused, testing his face. "I told Charlie."

His face turned impossibly whiter, visible even in the darkness. "You told Charlie..."

"I told him that you asked me to marry you and that I said yes." She laughed a little at the shock that dominated his expression. There was a nervous edge to the sound. "I know we decided to wait before telling everyone, but you know what a terrible liar I am. I couldn't pretend nothing was going on. It was making me paranoid and I just wanted it off my chest," she said, smiling bashfully. "You're not mad, are you?"

"Of course I'm not mad," he said, shaking his head. "I just... I wanted to properly ask him for your hand. This is what men used to do back in my time and... Well, there's nothing traditional about the two of us, I suppose, but your father doesn't think very highly on me to begin with and I wanted to do this part right."

"Oh, I'm sure you could still do that. He would want to talk to you."

"What did he say when you told him?"

"He almost got a heart attack at first. He thought I was joking. I think he was waiting for me to take it back. And then, when he realized I was serious, he asked me if we were... if I was... pregnant." She whispered the last word, blushing scarlet. She wanted to forget that part of the exchange had never taken place. "I think I got him convinced eventually. I promised we wouldn't do anything before graduation, anyway, that we won't even think about it or start planning until school ends. He's sleeping quite peacefully now so I think it went well." She beamed proudly. She _was_ proud of herself. In a way it was important to her to stand up to her father without Edward's support. She needed to know she was capable of it as an adult. She owed it to herself.

"You're looking a little smug, Miss Swan," he murmured, not without humor.

"Well, it felt good," she admitted. "I was sure he would kick me out as soon as I told him."

"He wouldn't have done that. He loves you too much."

She shook her head, somewhat embarrassed to make an actual reply to his comment.

"You have no second thoughts, do you?"

She turned to face him. He was dead serious, staring at her intently, as though trying to read any hint of cowardice in her face. "Would I have risked my relatively steady relationship with my father if I had second thoughts?"

A smile broke his grave expression, but only briefly. "No, I suppose you wouldn't." He reached out to brush a lock of hair away from her face. "It's just that... I thought things would seem different to you once we're home; that you said you'd marry me in the heat of the moment and – "

She placed her thumb on his lips, and his voice trailed at once. "Everything seems different to me here, except for one thing." She paused for impact and removed her finger when she was sure she had his attention. "You. Us. The way I feel about you hasn't changed. It will never change."

He seemed moved by the words, even though he must know them already. He was slow to respond, but eventually he smiled. "Well, in that case, you wouldn't mind if I leave your side for a second."

"Leave?" She echoed uncomprehendingly. She actually did mind, but he was already out of bed and by the rocking chair where his jacket lay discarded. He fumbled with it for a moment before he returned, smiling meekly. Something glimmered in the darkness and she gasped, already guessing what he was going to do next.

"It was my mother's," he said, opening his fist.

The ring that lay in his palm took her breath away. She took in its oval shape and the dozens of tiny diamonds, sparking into the night. She reached out for it, but didn't dare touching it. Her finger lingered just above the ring.

"I don't expect you to wear it to school or anywhere you don't wish to. If you want to start wearing it only after we make things official, that's fine by me. Whenever you decide to wear it, it's yours. I won't make a fuss." There must have been surprise in her eyes, for he shook his head, laughing softly. "You said yes," he explained somewhat sheepishly as though he still hadn't grasped that fact. "That's all I could ever ask for."

He reached for her hand with his free hand, and slipped the ring onto her finger. She didn't dare breathing until it sat perfectly in place. It was as though it belonged there. "A perfect fit," he murmured, looking transfixed.

"You're looking a little smug, Mr. Cullen," she taunted, echoing his previous words.

He scooped her in his arms, laughing. "I've never dreamt I would give this ring to anyone, let alone that it would fit so well."

"Fate," she grinned at him, putting her hand in front the two of them to observe the ring. She glanced at him from over her shoulder. His smile was so blinding it was almost glowing in the dark.

"After graduation?" he asked her. She nodded and snuggled against him, her hands against his chest. "And then forever."

"A thousand forevers, as far as I'm concerned," she said, yawning. She was unbelievingly tired. If he had made any reply, she didn't hear it.

When she was drifting off to sleep shortly afterwards, with her head against his chest, she was still wearing the ring, their ring, a promise to never let go.

xoxox

It was a perfect spring day in New York and the streets were swarming with people. Some of them were locals and speaking with a heavy New York accent. Some were immigrants and their English carried the obvious lilt of a foreign language, their mother tongue, never to be forgotten. The rest were tourists, speaking and shouting and crying out unfamiliar words in exotic languages. The final result was chaotic. One would get dizzy from just looking at the hubbub they were creating in each and every street as their ways crossed paths again and again.

She took it all in through her new sunglasses, one of Alice's many departure gifts. She wore a white sundress and pretty lavender colored sandals, also courtesy of Alice. Her hair was streaming down her back, her curls loose and untamed. Despite her concerns, she seemed to be blending in just fine. Jack could easily be mistaken for a student on a holiday as well in his khaki cutoffs and a blue shirt. She smiled to herself as their images reflected against a shop window they passed. They looked like any other person on the busy street.

It was their first taste of the real world in the twentieth century. They arrived at New York early that morning, and although it was only lunchtime, she felt as though they had been there for days. It was so different to the noiseless seclusion of the Cullen residence in godforsaken Forks. This city was vibrant and alive. She could feel its energy reverberating through the sidewalk beneath her feet. It made her feel alive as well.

"Shall we go to the park?" she asked Jack after they had lunch at McDonald's. It was silly to start their culinary explorations there, she knew, but she was too curious to let it go. They both loved every second of their first taste of junk food.

"Sure," replied Jack, checking his new watch. "I think we won't be able to make it to the museum today; there's too much to see outside."

"It's alright," she said, reaching for his hand. Her heart still lifted at the sensation of skin against skin, but it no longer made her blush. As far as she was concerned, it was quite a progress. "We have all the time in the world."

Instead of giving him a chance to respond, she pulled at his arm and led the way towards Central Park.

They had a suitcase each, filled with necessities Esme and Alice had both packed for them, and they dropped them at their hotel before heading out to explore the city. Carlisle even let them borrow a camera he had in his possession, and they had spent the morning taking photos of the buildings and of each other, or asking strangers to take photos of the two of them. Then they took them to be printed and spent nearly an hour reveling at yet another marvel of modern technology.

They wandered aimlessly around the enormous park, taking more photos and just fooling around as young people their age would. They stopped to rest in the shade of an enormous tree by the pond. Jack sketched a few stray birds and chipmunks, and even her while she was napping in the shade.

Although they had no concrete itinerary for their first day in town, there was one thing she had intended to do today. It didn't leave her mind ever since Edward had mentioned it several days ago, and she knew she wouldn't be able to fully enjoy herself before she did it.

When they finally stood in front of the lighthouse commemorating the victims of the Titanic, she released the breath she didn't know she was holding. The structure wasn't strange to her; they had seen it on the internet while planning their journey with the Cullens and with Bella. And yet she looked at the time ball on top of the lighthouse as though she had seen it for the very first time. Chills ran down her spine as she read the plaque on the stone. Until that moment it was easy to believe the Titanic disaster was nothing but a story, but seeing the words now turned it into a reality. Her eyes filled with tears, but she wiped them away angrily. She had no right to cry. Her life had been spared.

Jack's hand slipped along her arm until he finally found her hand. He laced their fingers together and gave her hand a squeeze of encouragement.

"Molly is incredible, isn't she?" Her voice was trembling despite her attempt to compose herself. She would not fall apart here, she told herself fiercely. Her story had a happy ending.

"The best," said Jack. "I read that she had lived in New York until she died. We could try and find out where she's buried, if you want. We can bring her flowers."

"That will be nice," she agreed.

They stood there a moment longer, watching the lighthouse in silence, remembering. Neither of them suggested taking a photo, as though by a wordless agreement. She was thinking of the last time she had seen her mother, right after dinner on the day of the sinking. She didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. Bella told her that her mother was sick with worry when she had seen her shortly after the sinking. It was somewhat reassuring that despite everything, her mother did care for her, in her own odd way.

"Come on," said Jack, shaking her out of her reverie. "Let's sit down for a while."

She followed him to a bench close by, one which was surprisingly unoccupied by the many pedestrians that swarmed the area.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, looking into her eyes.

"Yes. Better. I think."

"It's alright to be shaken."

"I think we can't help it, really," she laughed softly. "We're only human." He nodded distractedly; only now she could see there was something clouding the brightness in his eyes. "What is it?"

He blushed, as though he wasn't expecting to get caught. "There's... something I've been trying to tell you since we got here, but I don't seem able to find the words."

"Oh?" she asked, suddenly filled with curiosity. He looked so fretful. It was unlike him. "Well, have you found them now?"

"I think so," he said quietly, glancing up at her. Then he laughed nervously. "I'm scared you'll freak out. It's an expression Bella and Alice taught me," he added as though he saw the confusion in her stare. "It means... going crazy, but not really. Anyway."

She laughed. She couldn't help it. He was adorable while appearing so insecure.

"You remember what I told you on Sunday morning, don't you?"

She nodded, thinking back of their hasty conversation at the gym. Her heart was pounding the whole time, partly with fear of getting caught there, partly with the affect his words had on her. They echoed in her mind throughout the day, until eventually she realized she had no other choice but finding him.

"I didn't tell you everything then. You wouldn't let me," he added bitterly, and she laughed a little at his dismayed expression. "But I know you know what I'd wanted to say."

She nodded slowly, unable to look away from him.

"I wanted to tell you I was in love with you," he said quietly. "But now... it goes much deeper than that." He peeked at her and his cheeks colored beneath their recently added tan. "I know it's very early to talk about such things, but I thought you should know... I'd like to be married to you one day."

His confession shouldn't have caught her so off guard. Wasn't she thinking the exact same thing just the other night, right before she drifted off to sleep in his arms? And yet hearing the words spoken, a confirmation that the sentiment was mutual... It made her head spin. She laughed nervously.

"Jack, I..."

She paused to rearrange her thoughts, realizing he had left her speechless. It was a moment before she remembered what it was she had wanted to say.

"I love you too," she said softly and the words rang solid and true in her ears. As of right now, it was the only thing that made sense in her suddenly erratic life. "But I think we shouldn't... I mean, of course I would want to be married to you someday, but I think it would be best if we didn't rush things. I'm only seventeen, and if I've learned something from these passed few days is that my life is only just starting. I think we both need to see much more of the world before we even consider it. There's so much more I want to do, so many things you promised to teach me."

"I know. That's why I said it was very early to speak of such things." He didn't seem mad or offended, which added to her relief. Then a tiny smile broke the seriousness of his gaze. "But generally speaking..."

"Generally speaking I think it's quite obvious I won't have it any other way, isn't it?" She scooted closer and wrapped her arms around him. His freckles looked more prominent this way, his nose slightly sunburned. She grinned at him. "If you jump, I jump, right?"

He pressed his forehead to hers, a wordless reply. He kissed her temple as she lay her head against his shoulder, and held her tighter against him. Peaceful serenity washed over her as they watched the lighthouse, an eternal relic for the enormous ship which had brought them together. Her mind was buzzing with thoughts of the future, things they could do and places they could go. Of course, she had already learned life had other plans for one sometimes, but somehow she knew she would always be able to get through. She was capable of anything, so long as they were together. Together, and never letting go.


End file.
